


He's Got His Claws in You

by TimmyJaybird



Series: Anatomy of a Monster [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, F/M, M/M, Manipulative & fluffy Hannibal, Mutilation, rape fantasies, some how, the food is always people, the food is people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is, instead of framing Will, Hannibal had changed his mind at the last moment and saw the brilliance in <i>saving</i> him? What if he worked to get his claws so deep into Will that neither man knew where one began and the other ended?</p><p>What if Will managed to undo Hannibal as much as he did Will?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this thing in 6 days. 6 days of obsession and non-stop writing. It was originally just going to be short, my little introduction to my writing to the Hannigram world. But uh, it became this. It's un-Beta'd as all my work is, and I hope it's not just a massive failure. It's been a while since I wrote outside the Batman fandom.
> 
> This begins slightly into Ep. 13, and then goes off into it's own AU. I hope you guys enjoy!

The Bentley’s door closing broke the serene silence that had fallen around Will’s house, isolated as it was. Hannibal’s footsteps kept it broken- soft on the cool morning ground as he approached, collected, placid looking. A well formed mask that Will saw as simply a handsome face on most days.

Huddled on his porch, he barely saw him at all. Will shook, rocked gently, cold and wanting to claw out of his skin at the same time. The wood of the porch felt rough, sharp under his feet- it was the only thing grounding him as Hannibal approached, peering down at him with those burgundy-chocolate eyes.

“I went to Minnesota,” he said, voice wavering as the morning wind tussled his curls ever-so-slightly. “I...took Abigail. W-we went to Minnesota. S-s-she didn’t come back with me.”

His breath came in unsteady _puffs_ , his eyes staring up at Hannibal- _terrified_. Hannibal tilted his head slightly, exhaling and swallowing the facad of a lump in his throat- a clever act that Will took like medicine without question.

“Show me,” he said, reaching down for Will’s hand. Will grasped his- felt the warmth from this skilled fingers against his shaking hand, and clutched, tighter than he meant to, as Hannibal helped him up. Suddenly the porch beneath his filthied, bare feet wasn’t so rough or sharp, his legs feeling numb.

Suddenly that hand was the one thing grounding him.

*

Will accepted the blanket Hannibal draped over his shoulders, unable to shake the cold of the morning from his brittle bones. His hand brushed Hannibal’s as he reached up to hold it against him, and the heat almost burned his skin. He waited until he heard Hannibal walking away to look up, unable and unwilling to catch his eye, and watched as the man slipped into his kitchen.

“I don’t remember going to bed last night,” Will started, some of the shake gone from his voice, as Hannibal peered into the sink. He rolled back on his heels, turning to watch Will. “I...I must have, but,” he sighed, “Maybe I...I got up to let the dogs out. And then...I-“

“When was the last time you saw Abigail?” Hannibal’s voice cut into the air, but Will couldn’t stop, his tongue unable, unwilling to stop moving, as if he could speak away the _truth_ and create a new one.

“-and my feet were muddy-“

“Will!” This time Will did stop, looking up at Hannibal for a brief second, before his eyes drifted to his nose, down to his mouth, stared at his lips for a moment too long. “When was the last time you saw Abigail?”

Will hesitated a moment. “Yesterday,” he said, swallowing the all-too-real lump in his throat. “At her father’s cabin. I...I had an episode.” He tried to focus on breathing, to let Hannibal’s face become a blur, but it was hard. His lungs didn’t seem able to open enough, the air unwilling to reach them, and Hannibal was all too real in his house, in front of him in the shadows. “She said something was wrong with me- she was afraid of me.” He tried to bite back the annoyance in his voice at the truth, tried to hide that it had hurt that this girl he cared so much for, felt so obligated too, was terrified of him. _But how could he blame her_? “She ran away,” he said, finally darting his eyes away from Hannibal, around the room, at _anything but him_.

“What happened? Why was she afraid?”

“I-I hallucinated that I killed her,” Will admitted, looking back. Hannibal looked away, and Will’s chest tightened painfully, his stomach aching, hating the small movement. He wanted those eyes to be able to look at him, _to see him_ , even if he couldn’t return the gaze. “But it wasn’t real,” he said, almost pleaded, wanted Hannibal to _believe_. He wasn’t a monster- he could never hurt Abigail, she meant to much to Will, too much to Hannibal. “I know it wasn’t real,” Will said again, stronger now, as Hannibal turned away, looked at the sink, and turned again, mouth open as he tried to breathe.

He walked over to Will, face deathly serious, lacking the hint of a smile on his lips or the slight warmth to those eyes. He crouched down next to Will, and for a brief moment Will thought he might reach out, touch him- and in that fleeting second Will _wanted_ it, something to ground him again, tell him he was there, that he was Will Graham, it was late morning, and he was _home_.

Instead he ran his hand over his face, exasperated. Will watched, eye flicking with each small movement, following Hannibal’s hand as it loosely fisted near the chair. “Will,” he said, his voice having the slightest shake, and Will knew _this wasn’t okay_. “We have to call Jack- you can’t run from this, it will only be worse.”

Will’s eyes fell closed, the heavy lump of lead in his chest falling into his stomach. It hurt far worse hearing that from Hannibal than if he had come to the conclusion on his own- it meant the one man who had faith in him, who had anchored him, was giving up. He looked over at him again, held his gaze for just a moment, and his lips twitched, _wanting_ to speak, but the words were dry and silent.

His eyes must have done the screaming for him, though, because something passed over Hannibal’s face- a ghost, a shadow, something with no name and gone as quickly as it came, but then he was resting his hand on the chair and watching Will.

“Get up,” he finally said, standing, and Will assumed he meant to move him somewhere where he could easily keep an eye on him while they waited for Jack. He stood on shaky legs, felt Hannibal reach out and place a hand against his back to steady him. The heat burned through the blanket and Will bit back a broken sound in his throat. “Go upstairs, and get cleaned up.”

“But you said-“

“I know.” He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to take Will in, and the slight movement made the special investigator feel _exposed_. “Let us pretend that I can unsay it. Go upstairs, Will, and get in the shower.”

“What are you going to do?” Will asked, allowing Hannibal to turn him and begin guiding him away from the kitchen.

“Just a simple little clean up,” he said, the hand drifting from between Will’s shoulder to the small of his back, where it lingered for a few moments too long, and left Will tingling beneath his clothing.

*

Hannibal waited until he heard the bathroom door shut before he went to work. He moved into the kitchen, shifting through Will’s cupboards carefully until he found a box of plastic bags. He plucked one free, turned, and walked back to the sink. He stared at the severed ear for a moment, then sighed, taking the time to locate Will’s paper towels, and using one to life it and slip it into the plastic bag carefully. He closed it, disposed of the paper towel, and ran the sink to wash away the aspirin Will and vomited up.

This had not been his intention. He’d meant to use Will as a cover for his need to dispose of Abigail- as much as he regretted the idea of losing Will. But he had hoped that this would darken him, loosen his vice like grip on the last strings of reality, and finally let loose that darkness that crept behind those dark, stormy eyes. It would be glorious.

But somehow, seeing Will so broken, he had been unable to go through with it- and that not only perplexed him, it worried him. Still, he was confident that he could still attain William if he played is next few moves carefully.

He took the ear, secure in it’s baggie, and slipped it into his coat pocket, where he was sure it would not be discovered or lost, until he could safely discard it without a trace of evidence.

*

Will let the water run over his face and rivet down his body, eyes closed as his hair was plastered to his forehead. The heat burned him, but he needed it- needed something to tell him this was real. It slight hurt was doing a semi-decent job of that, but not as good as the feel of Hannibal’s hand clutched in his, or against the small of his back.

Will hadn’t stopped to consider why Hannibal was his first call. He knew he couldn’t call Jack, Jack would make everything a mess. No. But he could have called Beverly, she had come to him once, helped he realize what was real, what wasn’t just in his head. But no, she was too close to Jack.

Alana, then. She would have come, she would have cared enough. But part of Will didn’t want to see her- not because of any ill will, but simply because it _hurt_ , the wound was too fresh, and this was definitely evidence of his instability.

There was a rap at the door, two brisk sounds, and Will tried to find his voice to tell Hannibal he could come in. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have dreamed of that, but the shower curtain felt like enough of a barrier against the world, and he was still too numb to refuse any contact from the man- even his presence had an oddly soothing quality.

The door opened and the light steam that had begun to fill the room wafted out. Hannibal took two steps in, breathed in the warm, wet air, the harsh scent of Will’s shampoo, and his lip twitched slightly. His eyes flicked to the shower curtain, and though he couldn’t see Will through it, it was enough to know he was naked and exposed on the other side. He could imagine how he looked with the water streaming along his body, and it would suffice. For now.

“I will be downstairs when you are done,” he said, calmly, “Do make haste.”

He left as quickly as he came, and Will swallowed the emptiness that his departure left and ran his hands through his wet hair, pulling it from his eyes and forehead.

*

Hannibal was seated on Will’s couch when he finally made his way downstairs, working on the last few buttons of his plaid shirt. Hannibal watched him carefully, the way his glasses slid down his nose as he was looking down at the buttons.

“We’re going to g away for a while, Will,” he said, and that made his head jerk up.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you cannot stay here,” he said, gesturing to the dark, empty house- well, empty except for Will’s dogs, which were hanging back at a respectable distance, watching Hannibal curiously, waiting for the okay to greet him _properly_. “In this house. And we need to know exactly what happened between you and Abigail.”

Will groaned, his stomach lurching, and he ran a hand through his wet curls, shaking his head. Hannibal stood, walked over, reached out gently and gripped his wrist, pulling it away from his face. His fingers slipped past the cuff of Will’s sleeve and brushed his bare skin, sent tingles up along Will’s arm. He leaned closer without realizing it, staring at the knot in Hannibal’s tie, unable to look up to even his chin.

“I can’t _go_ anywhere,” he said, “You even said we have to call Jack. God, if she’s still _alive_ -“

“Will.”

“She might need help. And the dogs, I can’t leave them-“

“Will!” Will stopped abruptly and his eyes jerked up, meeting Hannibal’s for a second before he twitched and looked away, missing the phantom of a smirk on Hannibal’s lips. “You will make arrangements for your dogs, and then you will come with me.”

“But-“

“Do not question me, Will. Simply...trust me.” He let go of Will’s wrist and reached out, gripping his shoulder. Will leaned his head slightly towards the touch, a movement Hannibal cataloged silently, before he nodded and pulled away, listening without question, because his mind was simply so far beyond questioning anything Hannibal had to say.

That was exactly what the man wanted.

*

It took well into the afternoon for Will to get the dogs settled and picked up. Hannibal didn’t ask where he was sending them, but the can that pulled up advertised a “doggy daycare and spa” that _almost_ made him laugh. Had the circumstances been different, he might have, because it would have eased Will, and he needed to calm him-

But most importantly, he needed to be the only thing that did, the one thing that saved him. His new, altered plan hinged on it.

Will didn’t ask where they were going and he threw clothing into a bag haphazardly. Hannibal curled his fingers into a fist, uncurled, curled again, watching as things were balled up and casually left without a care. After a moment he left Will to it and told him he would be in the car, that he expected to see him in just a few minutes time. He kept count, checking his watch, while he waited, and it took Will just under seven minutes to finish up and appear, his jacket thrown over his shirt so quickly that half the collar was tucked in and part of it was tangled around his back.

Hannibal found it amusing, but he kept that to himself as Will settled his bag in the back and slipped into the front seat, fidgeting with his seat belt. He didn’t say anything as Hannibal started the car and drove away from the lonely house. In fact, he didn’t say anything for quite some time, just stared out the window with a look that said he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and _forget_.

He wanted to lean his forehead against the glass, as well, but he fought that urge, afraid of leaving any sort of smudge. Plus, his hair hadn’t finished drying yet, and he was partially terrified of even remotely damaging anything in Hannibal’s pristine car. So he kept to his small space and folded his hands in his lap, worrying his lower lip to let his tension trickle out.

“Where are we going?” he finally asked, looking at Hannibal briefly from beneath his thick, dark lashes. Hannibal took a second to take in those eyes, before looking back at the road.

“To my home,” he said, “Where you can be more comfortable, and I can better think.”

“I was comfortable in my own home,” Will says, though he doesn’t object. It was a good sign.

“And you will be comfortable in mine.” Hannibal dares to look at him, and for a second, he is sure he saw Will’s lips curve up into a brief smile.

*

Will followed Hannibal inside, nervous, as always, of touching anything, least he damage or ruin the immaculate house beyond repair. He was happy when Hannibal led him upstairs right away, and into a guestroom. He flicked the cool, white light on, and Will looked around at the dark wood floor and deep blue curtains and matching bedspread. It looked untouched, as if it had come straight from a magazine, not a fiber out of place.

Will set his bag down by the bed, and Hannibal remained at the door, watching. “Perhaps you should lay down, Will,” he offered, “I am sure you are exhausted.” Will shook his head, walking a lap around the room, examining the bookshelf against one wall, the dresser against another. “Please,” Hannibal said, sounding sincere, and Will stopped to look at him, focusing on his chin again because he couldn’t handle his eyes, and his mouth was too dangerous. “Just for a short time, while I make us something to eat.”

“You don’t have to-“ Will started, then stopped, deciding it was pointless to argue. This was Hannibal, and he was going to do whatever he thought fit and polite- god forbid the man ever appear rude. “Thank you,” Will offered, looking up, and Hannibal gave him a smile, before slipping out and the closing the door.

As he walked downstairs, Hannibal kept the smile depsite himself, because it hadn’t simply been for Will’s reassurance. It had been real. He kept it until he got into the kitchen, deciding something light would be best for Will at the moment.

*

Will slipped his shoes off and stripped of his plaid shirt, remaining in his jeans and whit undershirt. He slipped into the bed and sighed, the sheets more comfortable than he was ready for. In a minute he was suddenly so aware of how fatigued his body was, how tight he had been wound. And while he didn’t want to sleep, he wanted to figure out _what the hell_ was going on, he couldn’t deny that the idea was appealing. Just for a little while. When Hannibal came to get him, he’d force himself to talk through it all, for the two of them to figure out what exactly had happened.

Will’s eyes slipped shut without his noticing, and minutes passed in sweet silence. Then, softly, he heard footsteps outside the door. _Hannibal_ he assumed, but didn’t get up because he was sure he hadn’t been lying here that long, and that perhaps Hannibal was going to a different room. But then the door creaked open, and Will heard footsteps again- heavy, smacking against the wood, with a hint of a _wet smack_.

Will sat up, his eyes widening as Abigail stared back at him, bloodied and muddy, melting snow tangled in her hair and falling down onto her bare, filthied feet.

“Abigail,” he breathed, just as the raven stag walked past the doorway, staring in at him with black eyes. Abigail’s lip twitched and she stared at Will, the fabric of her jacket and shirt suddenly opening in leaking, bloody holes. A moment later the raven stag had her impaled upon his antlers, and she was opening her arms to Will, watching him with cold, dead eyes, and he wanted to scream, but his tongue was heavy and his throat raw.

“Will!”

Will’s eyes snapped open and he stared up at Hannibal, his bangs falling onto his forehead as he clutched at his shoulders. Will opened his mouth and tried to breathe, but felt like his throat was closed. Hannibal’s grip tightened for a moment, and Will stared up, terrified, panicked, feeling like the room was dissolving around them.

Hannibal let go, slipped one arm under Will and guided him up into a sitting position, the other wrapping around the front of his torso and clutching at his aist to help keep him up. He rubbed along his spine softly, and Will finally managed a breath, gulping down air in a way that made his chest ache. He coughed, leaned forward, reaching up to clutch at his hair. He felt like he was burning alive in his skin.

“You are alright, Will,” Hannibal said, and Will clutched at his voice, wanted to reach down and grab the hand at his waist. The strokes along his back felt like heaven, and when he looked up into Hannibal’s dark eyes for a moment, he thought he was drowning. “You were having a nightmare.”

When Will didn’t respond, Hannibal eyed him, then pulled away. Will reached out for one of his hands, fingers grazing it, without even realizing. Hannibal stood from the bed and walked to the night stand, opening a drawer and returning with a pad of paper and a pen.

“It’s seven forty two,” he said, passing it to Will, who looked at him and wanted to scream that he didn’t need to draw a damn clock right now- he just needed Hannibal to touch him again. But he took it, his hand shaking as he drew a circle.

“It’s seven forty two,” he muttered, scratching in the numbers, “I’m in Dr. Lecter’s home.” He drew the hands, then looked up at Hannibal with wild, feverish eyes. “And my name is Will Graham.”

Hannibal took the paper, looking at the clock, his brows knitting together.


	2. Chapter 2

“You should have called me,” Jack said, glaring at Hannibal as they stood in the hospital waiting room. Hannibal shifted, hands in his pockets, looking off down the hallway for a minute before turning to him.

“I meant no offense. Will was...unstable when he called me. He was not in a state of mind where he needed more stress.”

“So you thought holing him up in your house was the best move?”

“At the time, yes.” Hannibal looked down the hallway again, frowning when a nurse walked by. He knew it was rude to be impatient, but he wanted news on Will. “He was having an episode. It would not do to leave him alone in his home, and I felt my own was a more controlled environment.”

“You could have been housing a murderer,” Jack pointed out.

“We do not know for sure that Abigail is dead,” he pointed out, “She is simply missing. Let us not judge Will too harshly.” Jack threw his hands up and turned, walking away, in search of coffee. As he did, Hannibal let a small smile escape.

*

Hannibal considered it a stroke of luck that Will had had another episode at his home. It was perfect, the perfect excuse to finally see something wrong, to broach the topic of his Encephalitis. Will was put into an induced state of rest for the treatment, and Hannibal planned on making multiple appearances while he was under, and then being there when he first awoke.

It was crucial that Will see him as his savior, or this new plan would not work.

Hannibal assessed this all on his flight to Minnesota, and as he drove along the streets in his rental car. He had precious time to put the last bit of his plan into action, and it was crucial, or Will would be investigated mercilessly over Abigail’s disappearance.

While the bar scene was far from something that interested Hannibal, it gave him an opportunity. He watched in the car until a young woman emerged, similar height and built to Abigail, with maybe two years on her. Possibly with a fake ID that got her into the car. He watched as she pulled her phone out and scrolled through it, and then slipped from his car, making his move.

She had looked at him strangely at first, he was dressed far too nicely for a bar, and his proposition had been strange. But Hannibal knew most people could be bought, and after only brief hesitation, she accepted the small bag he had, and disappeared, not into the bar, but around it into the alley to change a few articles of clothing. It was distasteful, but Hannibal kept quiet about it, considering it wasn’t much of a change. When she emerged in a jacket identical to one he knew Abigail owned, along with a scarf, she was almost perfect. He reached out, adjusted the scarf and her hair, and then smiled. It would be perfect.

“So it’s Abigail?” she asked, and Hannibal nodded. “And all I have to do is make sure some people hear my name, and hit another few places tonight?”

“Yes, that is all.” She shrugged, running her hands over the jacket.

“Easy enough.” She gave him a wave- and for a moment, if he ignored some of the up close details, he could believe it was her- and then disappeared into the bar.

Hannibal did not bother to stay and see if she kept her word. While he did not have time, as he had to catch his return flight, he was confident- almost overly so- in his new plan to bring Abigail back to life long enough for everyone to believe Will was innocent. After all, they would have none of the evidence Hannibal had intended to plant for Will- Abigail’s ear had been chopped up finely and discarded, and he was no worried about anyone discovering it. He was, after all, not under investigation and confident he would not be.

*

Hannibal was pleased when, as the days passed, Jack informed him that Abigail had been spotted alive. He acted shocked, relieved, but inside he could only smile because this was going _far too smoothly_. He had spent time every day in Will’s room- and every one seen him. The nurses greeted him when he entered, told him he was a very loyal friend, and Jack had even commented once that his patients must miss him, with how much time he spent at the hospital now. Hannibal had only smiled his knowing smile.

*

When Will’s eyes opened, he wasn’t entirely sure where he was. He blinked, turned his head and looked at the IV line running from his arm. He looked back up at the ceiling, sighing, and that sound roused someone in the room. Alana came into view, smiling at him, reaching down to touch his arm.

“Hi Will,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing. He smiled back, for a moment not caring where he was.

He heard a door open and footsteps, and turned his head in time to see Hannibal walking in, looking at Will with slightly surprised eyes.

“Dr. Lecter,” he said, his voice a croak, and Alana squeezed his hand again for a moment, before releasing it and walking over to Hannibal.

“Hannibal has been here more than most of us combined,” she said, setting a hand on his shoulder and smiling. “I’m going to get some coffee, I’ll be back soon.”

She slipped out and Will watched Hannibal slip out of his jacket and drape it over one arm was he walked over. He pulled a chair next to the bed, carefully set his coat over the back, and sat down, looking at Will with those chocolate-burgundy eyes that Will could drink like wine.

For a moment Will had to wonder if he was on medication to be thinking like that.

“What...happened?” he asked, and watched as Hannibal crossed his legs, looking regal as ever.

“You had an episode. I thought it may help you to do a grounding exercise, except the clock you drew me was abnormal.” He folded his hands in his lap. “Which is good for you, Will. It finally allowed us to see what was wrong with you.”

Will opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was too dry, too raw. When Hannibal continued he was grateful, but he wished the man was closer. It felt like he was a country away, and Will desperately wanted his hand.

“Encephalitis. It is an infection in your brain.” He paused for a moment while Will rolled the words in his head.

“Is it-“

“You are expected to make a full recovery,” Hannibal said, “once your treatment is done. You will not be checking yourself out of the hospital this time.”

Will laughed, and Hannibal smiled at him, uncrossing his legs and leaning closer. His hand rested on top of Will’s for a moment, before Will wriggled his around so it was palm up, and he laced their fingers together, smiling.

“So I have...you to thank for...this.” Each word hurt, but he needed to say them. Hannibal looked about to speak, but the door opened and Alana stepped in, Styrofoam cup in hand, filling the room with the smell of cheap, but strong, coffee. Hannibal pulled his hand back, much to Will’s dismay, and stood up.

“Allow me to find you some water, Will,” he said, and slipped gracefully out of the room. Will flexed his hand, missing the feeling of Hannibal’s palm brushing against his. Alana walked back over and stood by the foot of the bed, catching the motion, and raising an eyebrow as she sipped at her coffee, despite its horrid taste.

“He’s been here every day,” she said, looking from Will to the window. “Jack joked that he was sure Hannibal’s patients missed him with all the time he was spending here. I’m starting to agree with him.” She took another sip of her coffee. “We’re lucky- you’re lucky he happened to have you draw that clock. I’ve never seen it used as any sort of grounding exercise, but it was perfect to finally give us a little clue about what has been bothering you.”

“He said...I’ll be fine.” Will watched Alana nod, and kept speaking despite the pain. “My dogs-“

Alana smiled. “Hannibal has been checking up on them. They’re still under professional care, but I’ve caught him on the phone more than once with them checking in.” Alana laughed at that, just as the door opened and Hannibal reentered, followed by a nurse. She began asking Will some questions, making notes on her clipboard, and Will just wanted her to hand him some of the water she had set down on a tray and leave.

Finally, when she seemed satisfied, she told him the doctor would be stopping in sometime soon, and left. Alana walked over to Will and patted his hand, telling him he should get some rest, but she would be back, and soon. She gave Hannibal a smile and left the two. Neither moved until the door was shut, and Will sighed, tipping his head back, already exhausted. Even if he had been out for days, he wanted almost nothing more than to curl up and sleep for another day more.

He heard Hannibal walking, the gentle _tap_ of his shoes, and the sound of water pouring. A moment later he was sitting next to Will’s bed, having pulled the chair even closer. Will looked up, saw Hannibal leaning over him. The man gently slipped an arm under his shoulders and helped him sit up, holding a small cup with a blue straw protruding up towards his lips. Will gladly grabbed at it with his mouth, so relieved for the water on his raw throat that he barely noticed the way Hannibal’s fingers stroked along his shoulder blade.

“Thank you,” he said as Hannibal pulled back and set the cup down, Will sitting up on his own now. “Thank you for everything, Dr. Lecter.”

Hannibal smiled, placing his hand over Will’s again. “Please Will, I believe we are comfortable enough for you to call me Hannibal. And there is no need for thanks, I was simply doing what any good friend would do.” He smiled, and once again Will managed to flip his hand over, entangling their fingers. When Hannibal gave them a gentle squeeze, Will looked him in his dark eyes for a few precious seconds, returning the squeeze.

*

Hannibal had not wanted to leave the hospital that night, but he knew there was no choice. He also knew it would not be wise to smother Will- Will had to take his subtle hints and come to him on his own. Well, with Hannibal’s silent, ghostly pushing, but still on his own.

He hadn’t been happy that he had been absent the moment Will opened his eyes. He had wanted to be the first thing he saw, and the fact that it had, instead, been Alana, worried him for a moment. He knew Will had some sort of feelings for her, and that there was certainly some confusion and repression on Alana’s part about her own feelings, and the last thing he wanted to deal with was having to eliminate Alana from this picture. She was a rather enjoyable woman, and despite her blindness to his less-than-socially-acceptable practices, she was otherwise intelligent.

It was luck that had convinced Alana to confide in Will that Hannibal had been present during his whole stay, that he had taken care of his dogs, that he had set what appeared to be his life on hold. And Hannibal did not like relying on luck. He would have to be more careful, find a way to make sure Will fell deeper under his spell before he gave him enough space to make his choice.

He arrived home thinking through this thoughts, slipping into the kitchen and stripped of his jacket and waist coat, carefully rolling his sleeves up to his elbows so he could prepare dinner. Will would be kept at the hospital for days still, but even after he was sure it would be wise if someone were to keep a close eye on him until he was further along the road to recovery.

Yes, it was perfect, the perfect excuse to keep Will locked up with him for a few days. And that was all the time he was sure he’d need, after months of having the younger man blindly delving into their _friendship_. He just needed to wade a littler deeper.

*

Hannibal was pleased to be Will’s first visitor the next day. He found him sitting up, looking far better than he had the day before, color returning to his pallid cheeks and eyes. _A rather alluring color_.

“Good morning,” Hannibal said, and Will grinned at him, looking for a moment like a happy child. For a moment, Hannibal thought perhaps he wouldn’t even need to set his new plan into action. “I’ve brought some breakfast, I am sure you’re rather hungry.”

“You have no idea,” Will said, watching as Hannibal set a bag down on the small table in his room and began setting the little table. Once complete, Hannibal walked over, grabbing A robe the hospital had provided for Will, and holding it out to him. Part of him was a little disappointed that Will slipped it over his shoulders before getting up, closing it fast enough that he did not get a glimpse at so much as even his legs.

He masked his misfortune with a smile and pushed some food from one of his containers onto Will’s plate. “A protein scramble for your strength,” he said, and Will smiled, taking a bite, already knowing from past experience with Hannibal that it was, of course, delicious.

Will wasn’t sure if it was because of the days he had spent unconscious and the fact that he was subject to otherwise only hospital food, but it tasted far better than he imagined. He could nearly moan, but he kept that down, still blushing a bit at the thought. “It’s delicious,” he said, taking another bite, and Hannibal poured a cup of coffee for him from his thermos.

“I’m glad you find it appealing,” he said, “I changed the recipe a bit this time.”

“Really?”

“Just a small substitution,” he said with a smile, “a different type of sausage.” Will kept eating, unaware of the grin inside Hannibal.

“We need to talk about something,” Will said, a few bites later, reaching for his coffee and enjoying the warmth the mug radiated into his hands. “About...about Abigail.” _How fitting_. “About that day you came to my house...a-and-“

“Take a breath, Will,” Hannibal said, lifting up his own coffee cup, “Abigail is quite alive.” He took a sip and watched as Will’s eyes widened and lit up beautifully, the way his lips parted as he forgot himself. Hannibal would have loved to reach across the table in that moment, to properly kiss him, but he resisted.

“She is?”

“Yes,” Hannibal said, “She was spotted in Minnesota while you were in the hospital, perfectly alive. No one, however, has been able to track her down and properly contact her. But she is, indeed, alive.”

Will sighed, swallowing the lies without question, and picked his fork up, resuming eating. Hannibal ate as well, watching him carefully. Once, he caught Will’s gaze, just for a second, before the man looked hurriedly out the window, the slightest color rising to his cheeks. Hannibal decided against broaching his offer to look after Will upon his release that day- he would let him dwell on whatever he was feeling and fighting with first. He did not want to overwhelm him and put him off from the idea.

*

Will found himself on edge whenever Hannibal was absent. If it was before he came for his visit, every open of his door would have him looking, _hoping_. If it was after he left, he simply wanted the next day to come. He would be that much closer to ending his stay at the hospital- and that much closer to one of Hannibal’s visits.

So when his door opened the day before he was to be discharged, in the late morning, he expected Hannibal, though knew full well it would be a nurse as well. Instead a he saw a pretty head of long brown hair and a familiar smile.

“Good morning Will,” Alana said, walking over to him. She pulled a chair over and sat down, taking his hand in hers and keeping that warm, infectious smile on her face. “How are you feeling?”

“Shockingly good,” Will admitted with his own smile, though he only looked into her eyes for a brief moment. She asked after her, and she related that she was well, that he was being missed by Jack and the team, though she was adamant that his time in the hospital was at least a good rest from the gruesome life Jack would have him lead. She talked about the team, about how Beverly and the guys had been in to visit him while he was out.

Alana was mid sentence when Will’s door opened, and his heart fell in silence for a moment, until Hannibal emerged. It took up its beat in earnest, banging against his rib cage and filling his temples with the sound of blood rushing. For a moment Alana was drowned out, for a brief, beautiful moment, Will was alone with Hannibal.

It shattered when he heard Alana greeting Hannibal, and for a moment he swore he saw something flash in Hannibal’s eyes- was it jealousy? _Of what_? Of Will, perhaps, because he had had Alana’s full attention- was there something there that Will had missed, could that be the reason for Alana’s rejection of him-

Or was he jealous _of_ Alana? Will let himself pretend for a second that he’d seen it, that that was what it was- he had wanted Will to himself, and Alana had interrupted. Just for a brief second, he got a giddy feeling in his belly had to fight down the small smile threatening his lips.

“You seem to be doing well today, Will,” Hannibal said, not even taking his coat off. “I will keep my visit brief- I hope I am not interrupting anything?”

He looked between the two, and Will wanted to cry out no, no he wasn’t- plead for him to stay. He wasn’t sure where the reaction had come form, other than it was torn from the bottom of his gut. When had Hannibal so easily replaced Alana in terms of his affections? When had the game changed so suddenly?

“Not at all,” Alana said, “Do you have plans, Hannibal?”

“A few patients this afternoon,” he said, “I simply wanted to check in on our Will.” Will almost shivered, wanted to correct him, have him say _my_ Will. He wondered for a second if he was still sick. “And to propose something to him.” Will perked up then, looking as far as the tip of Hannibal’s nose, which seemed to make the psychiatrist’s lips twitch into that small smile of his. “I think it would be in your best interest, Will, if you had someone to look after you for your first few days away from the hospital.”

He left the rest unsaid, and Will felt his heart trying to escape through his ribs. He gripped at the sheets of his bed, trying to hid his hands under the blanket, afraid to finish Hannibal’s thought- afraid to read him wrong.

“I can check up on him,” Alana said, “You’ve done more than enough, Hannibal.”

_No, no, don’t say that_ Will begged silently.

“You may still check on him,” Hannibal said, “but I think it is in Will’s best interest to be kept in a secure environment, closer to us. His home is far from that.” He gave Will a small look of apology that wasn’t needed. “And my home is always open to friends.”

That was all Will could stand to hear. “Dr. Lecter- _Hannibal_ is right,” Will said, a little too excited. Alana looked at him with one quirked eyebrow, and he tried to compose himself quickly. “That is- if he’s sure it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all, Will,” Hannibal said, smiling at him in a way that made Will’s stomach do flips.

*

Alana had questioned Will’s decision until he climbed into Hannibal’s car. He assured her it was fine, that he was in _beyond_ capable hands, and Hannibal offered again that it was, of course, no trouble. He went so far as to tell her to stop by as she pleased, that he would call her and the three of them could have dinner.

Will didn’t speak during the ride back to Hannibal’s home- he wasn’t sure _what_ exactly he could say. All he could do was try to sneak looks at the man through the corners of his eyes, wondering if the tension settling in the car was completely in his head.

Hannibal offered Will the same guest room he had first offered when he had come to him during his episode. It still had some of Will’s things in it, what Hannibal had not packed up and diligently brought to the hospital for him. Will was speechless, his tongue seemed to have forgotten how to work- and he knew it was _rude_ , but Hannibal was forgiving and didn’t push him.

“Would you like to lie down, Will?” Will laughed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. It was nice to wear pants again.

“No,” he said, shifting around, “No, I think I spent enough time in a bed for quite a while.” Hannibal smiled at that, and Will felt the heat rising under his skin. “I’d really like to stretch my legs for a bit.”

“A walk, then,” Hannibal said. “I hope you wouldn’t mind some company.”

“I’d love some.”

The weather was pleasantly cool, and to Will, a relief from the stuffiness the hospital had been. They had no destination in mind, and neither bothered to attempt to set one. It was just pleasant to breathe in the fresh air, to feel _alive_ for a moment again.

“Has Jack contacted you about returning to the field yet?” Hannibal asked, his gloved hands in his pockets. Will shook his head, his glasses slipping down his nose.

“No. No, not yet.” He pushed them back up. “I’m expecting that call within the next two days, at most, though. I’m sure he won’t wait long.”

“And will you return, Will?” They stopped, Hannibal turning to face Will, who looked down, focusing on his shoes instead.

“I have to,” he said, “I can _catch_ them, Hannibal.”

“But is it _good_ for you, Will?” Will looked up then, finding Hannibal’s chin.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he said, “Now that this...infection is cleared up.” He looked a little higher, found Hannibal’s lips, and meant to keep going, but found himself paralyzed. Will stared for a second too long, was sure Hannibal knew exactly what he was staring at, before he managed to jerk his eyes up to Hannibal’s nose. “Are you worried?”

He wasn’t sure entirely what possessed him to ask. It was a stupid question- obviously Hannibal harbored some sort of worry, though Will wasn’t sure of it’s extent or it’s true basis. Still, he cursed himself for asking.

“Yes. You are my friend, Will, and of course I worry for your health.” He pulled one hand from his pocket- leather gloved- and reached for Will. Instead of taking his hand, he let his fingers skim down his arm first, tracing the bones along his hand, until he could loosely grasp it. Will shivered, and he _knew_ Hannibal noticed. “Someone has to worry about you, Will. You do not worry about yourself enough.”

His hand squeezed gently, and Will’s heart was in his throat. He looked up, caught Hannibal’s eyes and tried to hold their gaze, but they were too dark, too rich, and his eyes flicked down to his lips again. Will wasn’t sure exactly what pushed him to do it, but he took a step closer, putting them in such close proximity Will could just feel the heat rising off of Hannibal’s body. He tilted his head a little, watched Hannibal watching him, and those dark eyes seemed _amused_ , as if they were waiting-

A gust lifted then, blowing cold air along Will’s face and pushing his unruly curls into his glasses. He looked away, his cheeks flushing, and reached up to bat them away, mumbling something about how he was getting cold just standing there. He slipped his hand free and began walking again, getting a few steps ahead of Hannibal and missing the smirk that crossed his face.


	3. Chapter 3

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ Will cursed himself as he stood under the shower’s stream of warm water, washing the cold wind and the feeling of idiocy away. _What was I thinking_? Oh, right, he hadn’t been. He’d been about to kiss Hannibal out in the open and, he was sure, chase away one of the only friends he had. Certainly one who had put the most care into him.

_Was it so crazy_? Will remembered the feeling of those gloved fingertips running down his arm. That wasn’t a _normal_ touch. And the grip of Hannibal’s hand- was Will crazy, or had the man been holding his hand a lot recently? And the dedication he had shown to Will when he had been in the hospital- even _before_ , coming out to his house when Will was sure he had sounded like a deranged fool-

He groaned and ran his hands over his face, back into his wet hair, letting the water soak the ache from behind his eyes.

He was half dressed shortly after when he heard Hannibal walking along the hallway towards his room. His footsteps were oddly soft, and Will had this sneaking suspicion the man could be deathly silent if he wanted to.

He continued drying his mop of curls, standing in just his jeans as Hannibal knocked. “Come in,” Will offered without much thought, unable to see anything but the towel. He missed the door open and Hannibal sleep in- missed the predatory gaze in his eyes as he drank down Will naked from nearly his hips up, his jeans having fallen slightly past his waist. Hannibal allowed himself to let his eyes flick to the soft trail of dark hair that led from Will’s navel past the hem of his pants, before quickly looking back up, as to go unnoticed.

“Dinner is ready,” he offered, and Will peeked out from the towel, before he pulled it away. His hair was a wet mess, but it was oddly endearing on him, Hannibal even dared to allow the word _cute_ to cross his mind.

“Thanks,” Will said, “I’ll uh...be right down.”

Hannibal nodded and turned, forcing himself to leave and not continue to stare. He missed the way Will watched him leave, a look not as predatory but just as hungry crossing his stormy eyes.

*

Will felt out of place at Hannibal’s table- but he was not new to that. If the house reminded him that Hannibal lived in a different world, the dinner table always made him feel as if Hannibal was in a universe all his own. But Will wasn’t about to let the awkwardness deprive him of the man’s company- or the food that had filled the house with such scents Will was sure his mouth was watering.

Besides, it would have been rude.

The only thing Will was truly unsure about was the wine offered to him. He was finishing up his medication, and he wasn’t sure if it was advisable to drink with it.

“A simple glass will cause no harm,” Hannibal said, pouring him a small one, and Will accepted for a lack of any other options. Hannibal watched him take a drink, not stopping to take in the aroma, but let it pass, giving his wine a moment to settle in his nose and breathed in, onto his taste buds, before taking a sip himself.

Will was aware of Hannibal watching him as he ate- slowly, quietly- and he wondered if he was doing something wrong. He wondered, as well, if he was imagining it all together.

“This is delicious,” he finally said, “I don’t know how you do it.”

“The culinary arts are like any other,” Hannibal offered, “patience, practice, and proper tools.” He gave Will a small smile and sipped at his wine again.

“Still,” Will said, “You’re blessed...or something.” He looked away, feeling as if he was about to start talking circles, and took another bite to occupy his mouth. Will took a drink of his wine, trying to find courage in it to speak. “And I can’t thank you enough, Hannibal, for everything you’ve done for me...”

He looked over, saw Hannibal’s eyes flash a bright, heady color when he said his name, and Will’s lips parted, his breath escaping him. It was gone in a moment, but Will saw it- _he was so sure_.

“It has been my pleasure, Will,” he said, “to see you finally getting well.”

“I just...I don’t have many friends that would do this for me.” _Or any_.

“I can be anything you need me to be, Will,” Hannibal offered, and Will choked on his breath again, his hands suddenly shaking. “If you need me to be the friend that cares for you, I am more than happy to assume that role.”

Will tried to smile, but he wasn’t sure it came through. He was too busy focusing on keeping his heart inside his rib cage too focus on smiling.

*

Hannibal left Will after breakfast that morning, telling him he had a few things he needed to take care of before he had a few patients that evening. He promised Will he could stop home in between to make sure he was well, and that Will was to call him if there was anything he needed. No matter the trivialness of it.

Will hated to see him go, but at the same time didn’t mind the solitude. The house was large and he didn’t feel comfortable wondering it, so he stuck to the bedroom that had, in one night, somehow become his, and one of Hannibal’s sitting rooms that allowed the daylight to trickle in. It was soothing, and Will was content to sit there, in the silence and the sun, eyes closed, just _relaxing_ , delving down deep into himself and realizing he felt _clear_ for the first time in a very long time.

That was where he was when he got the phone call. There were only three options, Will know, for the caller- and he was fairly certain it was not Hannibal. That left Alana and Jack.

“Hello?” he said, knowing his answer when he saw the number.

“Feeling up to some work, Will?”

Will sighed, very much not wanting to leave the warm spot on the carpeted floor he’d found- part of him felt odd in the pristine furniture, and the sun had hit this spot so directly he couldn’t resist it. He waited a moment, then- “Jack, maybe now isn’t-“

“I could use your mind, Will.” Will sighed, reaching up to run his hand over his face.

“Fine. Send someone to get me, I’ll be ready.”

*

Will had tried to call Hannibal, and had gotten his voice mail. He left an awkward message that garbled together the idea that Jack _absolutely_ needed him, but he wouldn’t be gone too long, and not to worry-

It all seemed trivial as he sat in the car next to a rather enthusiastic Beverly, who had shown up shortly after the call to pick him up. She was openly excited to see him again, asking how he was doing, if he felt better, and most importantly-

“Isn’t it a little weird that you’re staying with Hannibal?” Will looked at her as they drove through traffic, and shrugged a shoulder.

“He’s a friend, and the doctor agreed it would be beneficial to have someone around with me.”

“He wasn’t there just now.”

“He doesn’t need to be by my side 24/7,” Will said, shifting awkwardly. “And it’s just a few days. Not very long.” Beverly gave her eyes a half roll and Will a bemused smile as she continued to drive. The trip wasn’t long, their destination had been Clifton Park, specifically, St. Vincent’s Cemetery. Beverly hadn’t given him any details other then the final destination, and Will spent the last few minutes trying to pull into himself, to find some sort of grounding so this didn’t push him over.

Jack was waiting when they got out of the car. He gave Will a nod, gesturing towards a section of the cemetery that had been taped off. “I’ll be waiting,” Jack said, not following, with no other formal greeting, and Will briefly wondered what the hell he was thinking jumping into this already.

He took a deep breath and slipped under the tap, stepping on a twig as he walked over the grass. There was a twisted tree behind a few of the graves, with large, lengthy branches reaching out, clawing at him. Hanging from one a naked woman was strung up, her arms pulled out tight out from her sides, and a rope around her neck. The three were fastened to branches, leaving her suspended with her ankles bound, like a cross.

Will stared at it for a moment, before the image began to dilute and unwind. She sank from the tree, the ropes disappeared, and suddenly she was half naked and he was kneeling over her, hands around her neck.

“I don’t want to hear her speak,” he said, looking down at her panicked eyes, “I don’t believe her words. I split her lip,” he pulled his fist back, punching her in the jaw and creating a nice split that bled, “not because I want her to hurt, but for the color it paints her mouth.” He shifted, rocking down against her body, eyes fluttering. “I’ve raped her, but this isn’t about pleasure- hers or mine. This is a test.”

He rocks again, tightens his grip on her throat. “And she has failed.” He leaned back, both hands on her throat now, squeezing until the life went out of her eyes. “Failure is not accepted. I strangle her to death, and I use her as an example. This,” he looked back at the tree, and suddenly she was there again, hanging, untouched, “is my design.”

He reached up, raked a hand over his face, through his hair, then turned, walked back away from the scene, rubbing his jaw.

“She was raped,” he said to Jack, who was waiting. “I’m sure of it.” Jack signaled to men he had waiting to get the body down. “But that wasn’t the point. It was a...a test.”

“A test?” Jack asked, giving Will a hard stare, who nodded.

“Yes. And whatever it was a test for, she failed.” Will didn’t look back at the body as they carefully pulled her down and got her situated on a gurney, so the team could begin to examine her before getting her to the lab. “The bruising on her throat,” Will said, turning back, “How severe does it look?”

“Very,” Beverly called back, and Will crossed the grass, looking down at her. Her lips were covered in dark, stale dried blood from a busted lip, and sure enough her neck was a blossom of purples and reds. Will rubbed his jaw again, fidgeting.

“Check for rape,” he said, “back at the lab.” Beverly only nodded, frowning.

“You look pale, Will,” she offered, and Will laughed bitterly.

“If I only look it, that’s good,” he said, folding his arms. He could still feel her throat under his hands, but the image was a blur, no longer crisp, like it had been before his stay at the hospital. That was good.

*

Will thought he may be allowed to return to Hannibal’s after the brief stay at the scene, but instead he was taken back to the lab, while they examined the body. He went to check his phone while he was waiting, but saw the battery had died, and cursed. He was about to go track down Jack and tell him he needed to call Hannibal, when he was pulled into the xaimination room.

“You were right,” Beverly said, “victim was raped. Vaginal tearing, bruising, it was a nasty event.”

Will drummed his fingers against his hip, thinking.

“Another thing,” Beverly said, motioning to have Zeller help her roll the body onto her side. “Look at this.” She pointed to a small wound above the woman’s left buttocks, near her hip. Will looked at it, narrowing his eyes. It was some sort of shape, the skin being carved away, round but not perfectly so-

“An apple,” he said, as the two returned the body to its original position. “It’s an apple.”

“Why an apple?” Beverly asked, and Will waited, thinking. He saw her again, below him, squirming until he squeezed the life from her. Dissatisfied at her failure, he marked her- _branded_ her- and strung her up for the world to see, as an _example_.

“It’s a sign,” he said, “A brand. For what, I don’t know.” He furrowed his brow, but as it stood, nothing more was going to come to him, he knew that.

*

Beverly drove him back to Hannibal’s that evening, and Will was both pleased and sad to find the house empty. _Hannibal must be with his patients_ he reasoned. He made his way upstairs to the bedroom- _his_ room, plugged his phone in to charge, and took a quick shower. Once done, he returned back downstairs, settling on the floor of the sitting room, the sunlight now moonlight, and closed his eyes.

He could see her under the tree. She was half dressed now, her top cut open but her bra in tact, her shirt shoved up and panties torn away. She was trying to scream but she was coughing against her own blood, and his hands kept her from making any more than convoluted gurgles. He squeezed and squeezed until she was limp, then rolled her over, pulling a knife from his pocket and carving at her skin, pulling the piece of flesh away and settling it in his pocket, leaving her branded. Then, he cut her clothing away completely, leaving her stark naked, and tied her ankles together, then fastened ropes to each wrist and her neck. He took no care with her body and let it drag over the ground, because she was filthy, just like the dirt.

She was less than it.

He hung her by her neck first, then pulled her arms taught, leaving her as an example. What _not_ to be-

Will was jerked from his thoughts when the heavy door to Hannibal’s house opened. He stood up, padding across the floors in bare feet, intent on meeting Hannibal before he could get very far into the house-

What he hadn’t anticipated was how quietly Hannibal moved. He rounded a corner too sharply and bumped right into him, knocking them both nearly off balance. Will reached out and grabbed the psychiatrist’s arm to keep him from falling, stumbling back in his own right, until his back slammed against the, thankfully bare, wall. Hannibal pressed into him, pinning Will in every way to the wall, staring at him with alive burgundy eyes, tinged with a storm of emotions before they were tucked away neatly. Will glimpsed them for a second and felt his stomach tighten painfully.

“S-sorry,” he stammered, looking away, “I heard the door and just wanted to...to...” He looked back, mouth slipping open at the way those eyes seemed to devour him, and he tried to shift around, his chest rubbing along Hannibal’s in a way that made his breath audibly rush out.

“I was worried when I returned and you were not here,” Hannibal said, not moving, and Will wasn’t sure if he wished the man would step back or press into him further.

“I-I called you,” Will said, his glasses slipping down his nose. “Left you a message, Jack called and needed me-“

He stopped when Hannibal leaned closer, tilted his head slightly and breathed him in. Will gaped, wasn’t sure if he was crazy or if Hannibal was _smelling_ him-

“You are upset,” he said, and Will was sure he _had_ smelled him, and he was worried by how hot it was.

“I just...I don’t think I should have,” Will swallowed, finding it hard to speak, “I wasn’t ready. I don’t think I should have gone back. But if I can catch this guy-“

“At risk to your own health,” Hannibal said, still close. Will felt something running up along his side and wasn’t sure if it was Hannibal’s hand, or his imagination _wanting_ it to be Hannibal’s hand. The man reached up, pulled Will’s glasses off his face, so that Will was forced to stare at him with his stormy grey-blue eyes, his breath caught in his throat as he leaned just a little closer, eyes flicking from Hannibal’s lips to his eyes-

It was that moment that Hannibal’s phone, nestled in the pocket of his coat, began to vibrate audibly. The two stayed frozen for a moment, before Hannibal pulled back, still holding Will’s glasses in one hand as he pulled his phone from his pocket and answered it. “Oh, hello Alana-“

He was cut off, and Will could hear Alana’s voice- loud, livid, but unclear. He watched Hannibal as he listened, gently turning Will’s glasses between his fingers. “I assure you, Alana, I had no knowledge that Jack intended to take Will. I did not even know he was gone until I returned home from a few errands.” He paused as she went off again, and Will felt so frozen he couldn’t even reach out to take his glasses back. “Alana, we cannot forget that Will is, of course, an adult, and it is his decision if he wishes to return to work.”

He sighed, holding the glasses out, and Will finally snatched them up, slipping them onto his face as Hannibal walked away. Will watched him go, realized he was shaking, and cursed Alana for the first time for her impeccably horrible timing.

*

When Hannibal finally ended the call, he was pacing around his kitchen. He slipped his phone into his pants pocket, stripping of his coat and draping it over one arm. He waited for a moment, wondering if Will was going to chase after him, or if he would need to act. The collision in the hallway had been completely unplanned, but had worked much to his advantage. If only he hadn’t been interrupted.

He had been telling Alana the truth when he said he had no knowledge of Jack taking Will back to the field already. He had returned home shortly after Will had left to find the house empty, and had realized he’s missed his call by only about ten minutes. When he had returned it, it had gone to voice mail, and Will never called him back. He had thought it odd, and had entertained a few fast heartbeats, but kept his reaction minimal as he met with a few patients.

Will walked in a few moments later, looking flushed and utterly delectable.

“Dr. Bloom is quite unhappy with your return to the field,” Hannibal said, walking around the counter, closing in on Will. He watched his throat work as the man swallowed, a lovely movement that he wanted to feel between his teeth. “I cannot say I blame her.” Will opened his mouth and Hannibal held his hand up gently, silencing him. “However, you have made your choice, so I must support you in it. Is there anything I can do to help you, Will?”

Hannibal watched his eyes flash in a mix of emotions that made him secretly smile.

*

_You can pin be down to this counter and run those hands everywhere_ Will filled in mentally, though he just stared for a moment.

“Maybe I can borrow your mind?” he asked, and Hannibal smiled.

“Certainly. Give me just a few minutes.” He affectionately rubbed Will’s upper arm before disappearing, and Will felt his skin tingling, realizing it had been skin-on-skin contact since he had put nothing more than a white t-shirt on after his shower with his jeans.

He made his way back to the sitting room and took up his spot on the floor. When Hannibal returned, he had shed his jacket and waist coat, even his tie, and had the first few buttons of his shirt open. Will stared at the curves of his collar bone, ad the hint of hair he could see, and felt his body shiver. Hannibal gave him an odd look for sitting on the floor, before he settled into a chair, crossing his legs and slowly rolling his sleeves up.

Will related the crime scene to him, the way the body was hung up, what he saw through the killer’s eyes, finally to the last detail of her missing skin. Hannibal listened with a casual ease, folding his hands in his lap. Will followed the motion with his eyes, trying to drink in as much skin as he could.

When he was done, Hannibal was silent for a moment, before saying in a calm voice, “The man seems to think he is fit to judge others.”

“But on what?” Will crossed his legs, leaning back on his hands. “I don’t know what he was judging her for, and that’s the key.” Hannibal was quiet for a moment again.

“It surely will tie to this branding he is giving them,” Hannibal said, “Once you have discovered the reason behind it, you will understand.” Will sighed, leaning his elbows onto his legs and leaning forward, watching Hannibal idly. Hannibal smiled, and Will caught it, that little lift in the corner of his mouth. “Now that you’ve had an eventful day, what would you say to dinner?”

Will smiled. “Yes please,” he said, standing up to follow Hannibal out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Will was taken to the lab the next day, this time dropped off by Hannibal himself. He had taken his last dose of medication that morning, and felt strangely calm in the man’s car. He knew in the back of his mind now that he was done with the medicine, he would have to go back to his solitary life soon, gather up his dogs- who he missed, and openly said so to Hannibal over breakfast- and leave Hannibal’s house. Return to his teaching and his isolated house and those cold crime scenes with no human contact to reach for after. That idea was sour, but he didn’t want to dwell on it.

“Thanks for the ride,” Will said, “I’m sure I can ask Beverly to drive me back tonight or something.”

“It was no trouble,” Hannibal said, “And I would be more than happy to pick you up later.” Will just smiled and slipped into the building, making his way for the lab. He found the team examining evidence, waiting for him, and was greeted with smiles, though a few odd looks.

“Anything new?” he asked, and Beverly picked up a file, tossing it open casually.

“Victim’s name is Ellen Kettle. She’s twenty seven, single, from the Clifton Park area, works in a dental office. Noting out of the ordinary about her.” Will frowned, but nodded. He had a feeling this might turn into a long, and sadly uneventful, day.

*

He had been, remorsefully, right, and the car ride back to Hannibal’s was far more entertaining. Still, something about _working_ again had felt good, had felt normal.

“I have invited Dr. Bloom over for dinner tomorrow,” Hannibal said with a smile, “As a celebration for your recovery. I am sure you are quite happy to be returning home soon.”

“It’ll be nice to see the dogs again,” Will admitted, before he frowned, “not that I don’t enjoy your company, Hannibal-“

“It’s quite alright, Will,” he said, “I did not take it that way. Will you need assistance retrieving them, or settling back into your home?”

_Yes, I’ll need a lot of assistance. A lot of your hands and that mouth type of assistance_. Will silenced his own thoughts, slightly horrified at himself. “You don’t need to do that, you’ve done so much already. I’m sure you’ll be happy to have your home back again.”

Hannibal said nothing, but Will thought he may have detected a slight frown on the older man’s face.

*

Alana was kind enough to drive Will back to Hannibal’s the next evening, so that Hannibal could focus on preparing dinner. The two entered the house to be hit with a barrage of scents, all of which intoxicating and reminding them of their hunger. Will had felt slightly odd in the car with her, thinking back to how her phone call and interrupted his one chance to be pressed so close to Hannibal, how he had cursed her in that moment-

And, of course, because she disapproved of everything he was doing in that very moment. Staying with Hannibal, returning to the field without rest, it all was a recipe for _instability_ , which was quickly becoming his least favorite word.

They shed their coats and made their way to the kitchen, where Hannibal gave them a friendly smile and asked after their days. It was casual, calm, and Will could taste, somewhat fake. He knew Hannibal wanted to appease Alana, to show her he had been _exactly_ what Will needed-

_Or do I? Do I really know anything this man is thinking?_ Will let it go when Hannibal offered them drinks, pouring beer instead of wine into chilled glasses to adhere to Alana’s tastes. Will tried to offer to help him, and Hannibal laughed and led he and Alana out to the table, told them he would not be much longer. By then, the tension and begun to diffuse, and Alana switched form her tirade against Will’s currently life choice to simple questions about his dogs, how his classes would resume. The sort of conversation he could enjoy.

Hannibal kept to his word, and came out, not properly dressed in his waist coat and jacket, carrying plates. The food was _divine_ , and Alana remarked that Hannibal’s skills in the kitchen were supreme.

“You give too much credit to me,” he said, “The food itself does all the hard work.” Will laughed, giving Hannibal a smile that the man returned, far more easily than Will expected. He blushed and took a large drink of his beer, looking for some sort of courage in it, but finding only a pleasant taste and the feeling of eyes burning into him.

*

Will saw her, in his dreams. She hung suspended, staring down with dead eyes at him, from a tree too tall and gangly, that seemed to be gaping wide with a toothy grin. He took a step closer, saw her stomach had been cut open, and there was something hard and round pushed into her innards. He stood almost directly under her, staring up, the shape of the apple coming into full view, just as her eyes snapped open and peered through him.

Will sat up with a start, gasping for breath. He looked at his clock, and it was only a little after four. He sighed, tugging on his wild curls, before he got out of bed, the idea of rolling over and attempting sleep suddenly repulsive. He crept from the room in his t-shirt and bare feet, padding softly down the stairs and to the sitting room. He stood in the spot he was beginning to think of as _his_ , enjoyed the calm air around him, before walking over the to window and pulling the curtain back to look outside.

Will wasn’t sure why, after standing there a few minutes, he turned. He didn’t hear anything, couldn’t have seen anything, but still he looked back. Hannibal stood in the dark, robed and serene looking and utterly _silent_. Will looked back out the window, felt him approach, one of his hand reach out and touch between his shoulder blades, trailing down to press to his lower back in a soothing way. Will exhaled as the body loomed closer, pressed up against him, fit his curves perfectly. He leaned back, felt one arm wrap around him, a hand pressing to his belly, fingers splayed, trailing up slowly. Still, he didn’t speak, even as it passed over his chest, up along his throat. Carefully, his chin was gripped and his head turned. Hannibal leaned forward, his mouth so close that Will could feel his breath- even, unlike Will’s that came in frantic puffs.

Will pressed closer, saw a smirk on Hannibal’s lips, before his mouth was captured, his head held still as Hannibal ever so carefully moved his mouth against Will’s, a hypnotically slow rhythm of lips, Will responding as one of his arms reached back, gripped at Hannibal’s robe to hold him close. Hannibal’s hand slid back down his throat, fingers teasing skin, and Will felt his teeth brush his lower lip, the hint of sharpness making Will want to open up more for him. He did, felt Hannibal’s tongue trace the swell of his lower lip, before it pressed into his mouth, sought out his own.

Will moaned, unable to hold it in, felt Hannibal’s tongue retract, his teeth nip harder at his lower lip, and then he was pulling away, a final stroke to his pulse beating frantically in his neck, and he was leaving Will to stand in darkness, feeling light, not sure if there was ground beneath his feet, if he was even still within his own skin.

*

Will did not mention it to Hannibal the next day. A realistic dream, that was all it had to be- and he was sure when he saw Hannibal up that morning, looking fresh and primped as always, nursing a cup of coffee as he scrolled through the news on his iPad.

They shared breakfast, before he took Will and his few belongings on the long drive back to his home. Will was said to see Hannibal’s home go, and something must have shown in his eyes as they pulled up to Will’s house and Hannibal killed the engine.

“Is there something the matter, Will?” Will looked at him, up at his eyes for a second before down to his lips, and he could feel them on his, soft and perfect and knowing, and he squirmed around, part of him wishing he’d never dreamed it. He’d never be able to look at Hannibal and not remember.

“The house is just lonely with the dogs,” he said, looking at his watch, “They’re being dropped off in about an hour.”

“Shall I wait with you?” Hannibal asked, and Will hesitated, before shaking his head.

“No, no that’s alright Hannibal. Thank you so much, but you’ve already done more than anyone ever needs to. I’ll be fine.” Hannibal gave him a nod and watched as Will got out, gathered up his bag, and walked to the front door. Once he had it opened, he turned back and waved, smiling at Hannibal in a way that was far too affectionate, before he slipped inside the empty house.

Hannibal smiled and waited a moment, giving Will the chance to change his mind, before he started his car again and began the trip home. Will’s inability to look at him- specifically his lips- without fidgeting was a pleasant reaction to the night’s events. Hannibal could taste Will even when he woke up in the morning, and it had been hard to not shatter his act of pure ignorance about the kiss and grab fistfuls of Will’s curls and pull him into another one. It had been intoxicating- far more than Hannibal had planned on, and that was dangerous. Dangerous for his control.

Will’s absolute silence on it was what Hannibal expected. The man would assume it was a dream, and not bring it up, until he finally cracked. But it had been the smaple he’d needed, and now every small touch, ever gaze, would drive him closer to that madness Hannibal needed him to see, to embrace.

He just had to be careful to keep himself in check while he waited.

*

Will went back to teaching, and was rather happy to fall into the routine. It was nice to feel normal, to have his head mostly clear and be able to act as if everything had always been _fine_. His first few days were as if nothing had changed- he lectured, returned home to his dogs, spent evening in solitude and was given the chance to collect himself.

The only amiss was the solitude was too deep, too much. He missed Hannibal’s company, but dared not call him already and ask to meet. And over what? Could the two casually go get lunch? Would Hannibal even do that- Will didn’t want to impose and then end up with the man cooking for him. Besides, he was sure Hannibal was enjoying his own peace and quiet, the calmness of an empty house.

But when Friday evening approached, Will had a giddiness in his belly over the thought that he _did_ have an excuse to see him. Hannibal had insisted he keep his appointments, that the time was good for Will to use to think through things. He was preparing for the drive when his phone went off. He snatched it up as he buttoned his flannel shirt, checking to make sure his house was locked up. “Hello?”

“Will, we’ve got another one.” It was Jack, and Will’s heart instantly sank. “We think it’s the same guy- it has to be. We need you here.”

“I’ve got my-“ Will stopped, realizing how ridiculous it would sound that he couldn’t make it to a crime scene because of his appointment with Hannibal. “Alright. I’ve got to call Dr. Lecter and tell him I will be unable to make it. Where are you?”

*  
The drive to Silver Springs, Maryland, left Will feeling on edge. He had gotten Hannibal’s voice mail and had been forced to explain that he would be unable to make it, and that he was very sorry, but Jack needed him-

It was unnerving, as well, he realized as he pulled into Ray’s Meadow Park and looked at the police tape, that this was getting closer to home. He got out and slipped beneath it, got a nod from Jack and a head jerk in the direction of the scene. Everyone began to move back as Will approached, looking at the body in the false light of a flashlight.

She wasn’t elevated like the first, but this time tied to the trunk of a tree, one rope underneath her breasts, then another lifting each arm out. Her head was bowed, hair matted with dirt, naked as the rest. A quick scan down showed a hunk of flesh removed over her pubic bone- in that same lumpy shape Will knew was supposed to be an apple.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, allowed time to alter around him, to flow back upon its self. He opened them, saw her free of the ropes, slouch to the ground, bruised, then dragged a few feet away, suddenly clothed. He walked over, looked down at her.

“She fights,” he said, “and that is my first sign of her failure. I smack her head against the ground,” he did so, feeling her long hair curling around his hands, “disorient her, so I can begin my work.” He used a knife to slicer her jeans and underwear, ripping the fabric in order to access her better. The penetration is quick and precise, and Will knows she has failed somehow. Smash her head into the ground again in anger, before snapping her neck. Once limp, he strips her and carves his mark into her body, this time more visible.

He is sick of people not _seeing_. He strings her up at eye level so she cannot be missed, and leaves her-

But first, he must make his intentions known. He pulls open he pretty mouth and stuffs the only hint he’ll give them into it, closing it and leaving her to be discovered.

The world shakes, and Will forces his eyes closed, listening to the hammering of his heart as everything fades back to reality. He turns, calling out that he needs gloves, and Beverly, of course Beverly, is the first one there, handing him a pair and holding his flashlight as he slips them on. Will takes it back and approaches the body, carefully opening her mouth. Sure enough, resting on her tongue is a small piece of paper. Will resists the urge to reach for it as Beverly snaps a photo, then gives him the okay.

He pulled it out, unfolded the careful folding, and read silently the neat hand writing,

_I will greatly multiply your pain in childbearing;_

_in pain you shall bring forth children,_

_Yet your desire shall be for your husband,_

_And he shall rule over you._

Will stared at it, his mind turning over the words, trying to place them, in vain.

*

Will sped on his way to Hannibal’s office. He should have called, but he seemed incapable of it. He simply prayed the man was still there. He made a dash into the building, through Hannibal’s small waiting room, and was about to knock on the door when it opened, just as the light to the office clicked off. Will froze, and Hannibal looked up, tilting his head slightly.

“Hello Will,” he said, and Will fidgeted. “I was just leaving, I thought you were at a crime scene.”

“I was,” Will admitted, “I uh, left. In a bit of a rush.” Hannibal waited a moment before speaking.

“Please, come in,” he finally said, turning and flicking the light back on. Will slipped in with him, watched as Hannibal slipped out of his coat and hunt it up. He held his hand out for Will’s, took it gingerly and hung it as well, leaving Will in his jeans and flannel shirt, which he realized, looking down, he had buttoned all wrong in his haste to get out of the house and to the scene. He blushed and mumbled about it, hands working quickly to undo the incorrect buttons and fix them. Hannibal watched for a moment, amused, before he settled down in his seat. Will did not take the one opposite him, but instead paced around the office, which Hannibal allowed in silence for a minute or two, before speaking again. “What is troubling you, Will?”

“This killer,” he said, stopping to look at the ladder that led up to the upper loft. “I can’t figure out _why_ he’s testing these girls, what they’re failing at.”

“Talk me through him one more time,” Hannibal urged, and Will hesitated for a moment before sighing.

“He’s targeting women. He’s sexually violating them, leaving them naked where they can be seen- _branding_ them even.” He took a few more steps, stopped again. “But not for him. He’s not claiming them, he’s marking them so we can see them as failure as well. He’s leaving them filthy because that’s what he thinks they are. He’s killing them before he’s even done raping them- sexual pleasure for him isn’t the goal.” Will turned, folded his arms. “He left a note with this last one.”

“Did he?” Hannibal leaned back as Will nodded. “What did it say?”

“Give me a minute to think,” Will said, pulling his glasses off and folding them up, putting them in his breast pocket. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, recalling the words in his head. “Something like...I will greatly increase- no, multiply your pain in childbearing.” Will hesitated, clicking his tongue, “In pain you shall bring forth children.” He sighed. “And then something about your husband.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I think he left it because he’s frustrated that we don’t see what he’s doing, the reasons behind these killings.”

Hannibal was silent, his hands folded. Will thought for a moment he wasn’t going to speak at all, when he finally said, “Yet your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.” Will stared, Hannibal leaning forward. “Is that the rest of the quote, Will?”

“Yeah, I think so. How did you-“

“It is from the Bible,” he said, “From Genesis, when God is punishing Eve for her transgressions in Eden.” Will gaped.

“How did you know that?” Hannibal just smiled, stood up and walked over to him.

“I know many things,” he said, gazing at Will’s naked eyes, holding Will’s gaze for a few seconds. When Will looked away, he felt Hannibal’s fingers running up his arm, that gentle but invasive touch that seemed too personal. Will wanted it, but this was a revelation and he needed to keep on the train of thought.

“So he’s quoting the Bible, using something in there to judge these women. There’s only endless options, then.” He sighed, and Hannibal’s hand reached up and gripped his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Her transgression was eating an apple,” Hannibal pointed out, “from the tree of forbidden knowledge.”

“And he carves an apple on them.” Will smiled, leaning a little closer to Hannibal as the man’s hand drifted from his shoulder down his arm again. “So, what, he sees these women as Eve?”

“Possibly,” Hannibal mused, more interested in the excitement that seemed to have suddenly gripped Will than any of the actual realizations. He watched the way his eyes dances from Hannibal’s nose and chin, to his eyes, then away, and back again. He broke away from him after a few skittish glances, pacing around, before finally slumping down into a chair.

“But why? What have these women done?” Hannibal settled down across from him, slightly annoyed that he’d been forced to stop touching him already, but refusing to let it show.

“Think about the passage,” Hannibal said, “Your answer surely lies there.”

“It’s about childbearing,” he said, shaking his leg, “and desiring your husband.” He ran his hands along the arms of the chair. “Which all leads right back to sex.”

“Your victims were raped, were they not?” Will nodded. “So that is your answer. Sexual intercourse was their test, and somehow, these women failed.”

“But how does that make them like Eve?”

“Perhaps he is equating their sin to her own. Her sin spawned the original sin- the sin some would consider we are all born with due to the matter of our conception.” Will leaned forward with a serious look, but his lips twitched with a smile.

“I love your mind,” he said, looking right into Hannibal’s eyes for a moment, with such intensity that the older man found it almost hard to stare back, but he held the gaze and smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

Will stood in the lab the next day- part of him sure there were plenty of other, more pleasant ways to spend a Saturday, but most of him was too excited about this break through. He had related it to Jack already, who had looked a bit skeptical, but did not argue him, nor did the rest of the time.

“Second victim is Carly Joy,” Beverly said, tapping her pen against the file, “She was only twenty four. Just graduated, was working in a jewelry store. While Ellen lived alone, Carly left behind a roommate.”

“We need to talk to her,” Will said, when Beverly held her hand up.

“Down boy. She should be on her way here, Jack sent some guys to pick her up. Anyway, she doens’t seem to have any connection to Ellen at all, they don’t even look that similar. Carly’s shorter, darker hair.” Beverly held up a picture of her. “Even had her nose pierced. Ellen was completely bland. Brown hair, no piercings, tattoos- her hair was even natural.”

“So his criteria isn’t how they look,” Will said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “That’s not that uncommon. How long until she’s here?” Beverly rolled her eyes.

“Probably about twenty minutes.” Will nodded, and decided that was enough time to get a cup of coffee.

He found the small break room deserted, which was relieving, and poured himself a cup. He sipped at it, grimaced a little because he had over his time in the hospital and at Hannibal’s home, gotten a taste for his expensive coffee. He forced this down anyway, about to leave when a familiar face walked in.

“Will,” Alana said, and, shocked to see her, he stammered a hello. “Beverly said you where in here.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Jack called me, in case the young woman he’s bringing in needs someone to speak with about this. He also wants someone to evaluate her while she is being questioned.” Will just nodded. “Are you sure you should still be here?”

“Yes,” he said, downing more of the god awful coffee. “Positive. I’m close to him, I can tell.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Alana said, “You getting close. Too close.”

Will didn’t say anything after that.

*

Carly’s roommate was a year younger, still in graduate school, with a long rusty color braid and freckles. She seemed nervous to be in the room, the interrogation room, which Will had thought not the best idea, but Jack was insistent that he wanted Alana behind that glass examining her. That left he and Will, alone with her.

“When did Carly go missing...Jessica?” Jack asked, and the girl sighed.

“Just a few days ago,” she said, “She went out and never came home. I thought maybe she...she crashed at a friend’s or something. She does that sometimes without telling me- always said she didn’t want to live with someone like her mom.” Jessica tipped her head down.

“Had she been acting strange? Meeting anyone new?” Jack asked, and Jessica shook her head, before stopping.

“Well,” she started, “She was doing something online. I don’t know what, but she’d get really defensive sometimes if I came into her room to ask her something and she was on her laptop. Always closed it real fast, glared at me. I never asked ‘cause it was her business, but-“ She reached up, buried her face in her hands. “Oh god, maybe if I did, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Her computer,” Will said, standing behind Jack. He walked over, crouched down by her. “Is it still at the apartment?”

“Yeah,” Jessica said, “yeah, she didn’t take it with her.” Will looked at Jack, who nodded his agreement. They needed that computer.

*

Jessica showed them in, pointing to Carly’s room for Will and Jack to examine. On the way out of the interrogation room, Alana had made her introduction and stayed back in the small living room with Jessica, talking softly.

Carly’s room seemed about average- at least Will assumed. Half made bed, a laundry basket partially fully, a few pictures and two framed posters, stack of books. He found her laptop sitting on her bedside table, and opened it with gloved hands, checking her history. Lucky for him, it hadn’t been cleared anytime recently.

“Looks like the usual,” Will said, “Facebook and Twitter, a few clothing sites.” He kept scrolling, then raised one eyebrow. “Is this a dating site?”

Jack looked over his shoulder, nodded his head, and Will clicked it. He was brought to starkly simple looking site, in blacks, whites, and grays, that at first looked rather _dull_. Will scrolled down, reading through the posts, his eyes slowly going wide. Jack, behind him, muttered something.

“It’s a meet up site,” Jack muttered, “for people with rape fantasies.”

*

Jack had the computer taken back to the lab, and ordered her entire history on the site be searched. He wanted to know every post she made, every person she spoke with. Alana cleared her roommate, saying she was shaken up, but stable.

“See if Ellen was on that site too,” Will said, “this might be the connection.” Jack left him to make the call to get her computer brought in, leaving him alone with Alana.

“So is it good to be home?” she asked, and Will shrugged a shoulder.

“It has its perks,” he admitted- the perks being the sweet silence around his home and his dogs. That was it.

“Maybe we could-“ she was cut off when Will felt his phone vibrating, and began digging through his pockets for it. He took one look at the number and his eyes lit up, excusing himself from Alana quickly.

“Hello?”

“Hello Will.” Hannibal’s voice was smooth, his accent giving Will chills. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No,” Will said, “No, just working on the case. I’m not sure if they’ll need me for a while, though.”

“Perhaps you might be interested in spending the evening with me, then,” Hannibal said, “I have tickets for a lovely concert.” Will bit his lip for a moment, before smiling.

“I’d love to,” he said, “Should I meet you at your house?”

“That would be lovely. Can you be here by seven?”

“Yeah. See you then.” Will hung up, turning to Alana, who had been watching. “I’ve gotta go,” he said, “I’ve got plans tonight.” He gave her a smile and slipped away, rushing off home, realizing he’d need to get dressed for the occasion.

*

He walked up the Hannibal’s a few minutes before seven, adjusting his tie nervously. He’d pulled together a decent enough outfit, all solid black with a light blue button down, but he knew he’d look so drabe next to the immaculate Hannibal. He ran his hands through his messy curls, hoping leaving his glasses at home had at least helped the look a little.

He’d barely rang the doorbell when the door was opening and Hannibal was smiling at him, his hair slicked back expertly, dressed in black like Will, with a crisp white shirt. “Please come in Will,” he said, stepping aside and letting him in, “And thank you for agreeing to join me in such short notice.”

“Thanks for the invite,” he said.

“I hope you don’t mind that I do not ask for your coat. We should get going so that we do not miss a moment.” Will just smiled and watched Hannibal slip into his coat.

The concert hall grew dim very quickly after they took their seats. Will was acutely conscious of Hannibal next to him, the way his cologne smelled faintly from the distance, the heat of his body. Will was not in the least bit interest in the symphony being played, so it was even easier to slip into himself and allow everything that was Hannibal wash over him. More than once he caught those dark eyes drifting over to him. On the third glance he smiled, and Hannibal smiled back, reaching over and draping his hand casually on Will’s as it rested on his thigh.

He had butterflies the rest of the evening.

*

Hannibal invited him back to his home after for drinks, and Will couldn’t think of a single reason- other than a fear of burdening Hannibal- to decline. He left his coat hanging with Hannibal’s and reclined in his sitting room with a glass of wine, laughing lightly as Hannibal recounted one of the mishaps he’d seen at concerts over the years. It was honest laughter, from Will, and it felt _good_.

Will was shocked at how quickly they finished the first bottle of wine. He felt light, almost carefree, and when Hannibal offered to open another he just grinned and dared him to. He shrugged his jacket off and let it draped over the arm of the chair, reaching up to loosen his tie a little. He thought to check his phone, but Hannibal was returning, wine bottle open, and Will held out his glass and laughed as Hannibal filled it, before filling his own and returning the bottle to the kitchen.

Will expected Hannibal to sit back in the seat opposite him, and was shocked when he instead settled next to him. Will gave a surprised squeak as their thighs brushed, before he laughed and leaned against the man casually, taking another drink.

“You’re getting me drunk, Dr. Lecter,” he said, teasingly, and felt Hannibal’s fingers drum on his thigh for a minute.

“I am doing no such thing,” he said, “You are doing it all on your own, _William_.” Will laughed, liked the tone of Hannibal’s voice, the easy way he was smiling. He took another drink of his wine, felt their thighs brush together again, and looked over at the window. For a moment it was dark and he was standing there, with Hannibal pressed back against him, mouth devouring his slowly, making his stomach ache with a sweet burn.

His cheeks flushed and he looked up at Hannibal through his thick lashes, watched how his hair was slowly loosening, not yet ready to fall over his forehead, but soon. The way his own cheeks had just a tinge of color, the dancing of his burgundy eyes, the gloss the wine had left on his lips.

In a sudden fit of bravery-stupidity, Will turned to him, leaning closer. Hannibal turned when he saw him moving, and Will leaned over him, finding his mouth and catching half of it with his own. Hannibal twitched a little- a shocked jump dulled down by the wine he’d had, and Will moved and found the rest of his mouth, pressing to him fervently, his lips coaxing a reaction. Hannibal reached his free arm around him, grasped a handful of his jacket and held him close as he pressed into him, fored his head to tilt so he could suck his lower lip into his mouth, play with it between his teeth.

Will whimpered, clutching at his thigh, opening his mouth when Hannibal’s tongue ran along his lips. Hannibal’s mouth tasted like wine, heavy and sweet, with something all his own that matched Will’s dream _perfectly_ , in such a way that Will realized his stomach was doing flips, the crotch of his pants feeling confining. He couldn’t remember the last time a single kiss had worked him up this much-

He wasn’t sure if it ever had.

Hannibal bit at his lip again, and this time Will fought back with teeth and tongue, made Hannibal utter a groan from the depths of his throat that made Will hate all his clothing in an instant. He was shaking, and when Hannibal finally pulled back so he could breathe, he stared down at him with eyes so dark they were almost _terrifying_.

Will licked his lips, and the crashing realization of what he’d just done sank down into him. His stomach dropped and the color rose in his cheeks and he tried to slid back away from Hannibal. “Fuck,” he muttered, reaching up to rub his jaw, his lips. “Dammit, Hannibal, I’m sorry. I...I-“

He shook his head, pulling completely away and standing up. “I should probably go.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I should definitely go.”

“Will,” Hannibal said, carefully, and Will was just shaking his head.

“No I- I’m sorry, that was so out of line. I just...shit I.” He was stammering, now sure what he should be saying. He grabbed his jacket just as Hannibal was standing, reaching for his winde glass and taking it from his hand. Will made his way for his coat and the door, unable to look the man in his face, his heart hammering, and Hannibal set the glasses down on a small table and followed.

“Will,” he called, stopping at the end of the hallway and watching Will shrug his coat on.

“I’m sorry Dr. Lecter,” Will said, feeling his eyes burning. Oh, this was not how the night was supposed to go- he’d ruined it, he was sure. The only reason he hadn’t gotten shoved away was because Hannibal was just as drunk as he was. He turned and slipped out the door, into the cool night, and into his car. He was in no condition to drive, but he told himself he didn’t need to get far. Just far enough away to forget.

He made it down a few streets, and pulled over before getting on the highway for home, shutting the car off and sitting in total silence and darkness. He leaned into his arms on the steering wheel and allowed himself a choked sob- oh, he’d messed up _royally_ he was sure. Hannibal would be furious come morning when this all settled in, and he was about to lose one of the only friends he managed to have.

*

Hannibal stood in the hallway after Will left, unable to move. He stared at the closed door, at the space Will had taken up minutes ago, and wondered _how_ he could have convinced the man to stay. Had he suppressed himself too much? He was sure he’d given Will just enough encouragement during the kiss, with enough subtle hints through out the night, that the man would realize it was not unwelcome. He was sure he’d had him when Will had kissed him.

Had he been too open? Had the groan that had escaped him- for he had not planned on it- been too much? He frowned, turning and retrieving the two glasses of wine. He finished his quickly, barely taking a moment to enjoy the wine’s scent, before he cradled Will’s, missing the sweet taste of it on his mouth.

This evening had not ended as he planned, at all. He’d hoped Will would fall victim to the wine and his teasing and take the steps he had, though he had not planned on Will being _terrified_ of it. He’d planned on having a bit of _fun_ with the man- just enough to make Will want another taste, for the man to come seeking him when his senses weren’t heavy with wine.

He hadn’t _intended_ on seeing Will leave hurting as much as it did.


	6. Chapter 6

Will refused to look at his phone the next day. He could get a call that the world was ending and he’d ignore it. He moped around his house, unable to believe what he’d done, seeking comfort in his pack. He was doing a shot of whiskey being lunch, and hating himself because alcohol had gotten him _into_ this situation in the first place.

He fell asleep on the couch that night with the dogs around him, hating himself so purely his entire body ached with it.

Teaching his class felt good, because it was a distraction. He’d had four missed calls from Hannibal on Sunday, and he hadn’t returned one. When his class was leaving he checked his phone again, found two from the time he was lecturing. That didn’t seem like the man, he’d always held a rather cool distance, but Will assumed anger might change him. He was about to leave himself when he got another call. He looked at his phone, and seeing Jack’s number, answered this time.

“Jack-“

“There’s another body,” Jack said, sounding angry. “I called you over the weekend and you never returned my calls.”

“Sorry I...it was a rough weekend,” Will said.

“Well forget it happened. Get in your car and get here, we’ll fill you in after you’ve seen the latest body.”

“Where are you?”

“Baltimore.” Will’s stomach dropped as he grabbed his things and hurried for his car.

*

The body was found in St. Peter’s cemetery. Strapped to the trunk of a tree again, naked and bruised, with an apple carved into her throat. This time, though, her stomach had been opened, and an apple was nestled within. Will hated that he had seen the image before, in his dreams.

He clenched and unclenched his fists, watched her jerk free of the ropes, the bruising all along her face paling, disappearing.

“I’m angry,” he said, “I’ve got the attention I want, but I’m still dissatisfied. I know she’s going to fail the test, but I give it to her anyway. I shove her face,” he reached down, flipped her over and pressed her face into the dirt, “into the ground, because I don’t want to see her. I’m trying to impress someone...”

Will felt her hair in his hands as he bashed her face into the ground. “She’s worthless, this one. More so than the rest. I chose her because I knew without a doubt she would fail. She was an impulse.” He flipped her over. “I brand her here,” he said, tracing her throat, “so the world can see, even if she were not naked. Her sin is obvious, my courting should be obvious.” He leaned back, “This is my design.”

Will rubbed his jaw, one hand fiddling with the phone in his pocket, before he turned, made his way back to Jack. “He’s showing off,” he said, “to someone. He wanted to impress them- it’s almost like he’s courting them.”

“What makes you think that?”

“This one, she was an impulse,” he said, “An easy target. He might have had some hope for the other two, that they’d pass his test. This one, he didn’t. He wanted someone who would fall. Whoever he wants to impress is somewhere around her, probably in Baltimore.”

“Then why the other victim, Carly? She was further.” Will shrugged.

“I don’t know. Maybe a warning, maybe just happen stance.” Jack nodded.

“We found your tie between Carly and Ellen,” he said, “that site, they both were members. We had their history checked, they both agreed to meet with an Obscurity82 shortly before disappearing. The meetings were on the nights they were murdered.”

“So, find the guy behind the screen name,” Will said, “And you’ve got your killer. I’m sure if you look into her, she’ll be a member of the site as well.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Beverly said, pulling her gloves off, “What’s the point?”

“They’re easy target,” Will said, “If they’re setting up...rape dates, whatever they are, they won’t really fight back.” He rubbed his jaw. “They’ll _like_ it.” He stopped, looking back at the woman still tied to the tree. A tree, just like what had first made Eve fall. A tree, temptation, sex-

Will jerked back to life, a grim smile on his face. “They’re failing the test because they’re enjoying it,” he said, “That’s it. That’s the test. If they’re aroused when he takes them, they fail. They’ve already fallen- they’ve already tasted the forbidden fruit. But if they were to _not_ be aroused, they’d still be pure. They would pass.”

“This is sick,” Beverly said, “But you’re almost making sense, Will.” She folded her arms. “We’ll get on getting her computer, and we’re working to track down this guy. But we’ll narrow our search to the Baltimore area, if you’re so sure.” Will nodded, looking back at the body and the grisly apple shoved into her belly.

*

Hannibal sat in his chair, his notebook held carefully, though it lacked any notes. His current patient was speaking about the hassles of his high end business job- hassles being that the women in his life were too _vanilla_ , as he put it.

“Richard,” he said, “Your sexual obsession is simply a mask for your needs for control. This fantasy you have about your co-worker, where you tie her up- it is not lust, it is power you are craving.”

“Power is in sex,” Richard said, leaning forward, his short brown hair kept neat and short. Hannibal said nothing, though he knew there was some truth to those words, even if he should try to reason away from it.

He watched his patient leave and heaved a sigh once the door was closed. He tried Will’s cellphone for the fifth time that day, and got no response. He didn’t bother leaving a message. Instead he sat down at his desk, pulling out his iPad to try and distract himself. He needed something to take his mind off of Will- something to remind himself that _he_ was in control of this game, that Will would come back and he’d have him, just as intended.

He wished he was so sure of that now.

He presumed he would find nothing, but instead he was greeted with a breaking news story of a boy found in St. Peter’s cemetery, where the FBI were investigated the third known victim of a serial killer.

Hannibal left his tablet on his desk and grabbed his coat and keys, making his way to his car with haste.

*

He slipped past the police lines when a few of the men recognized him, and assumed he had been called in to help. He gave them curt nodes of approval, making his way towards the center. He saw Will, back to him- knew him by his posture, the mop of curls, his jacket. He was talking with Agent Katz, who looked up and saw him approaching, smiled and _waved_. Hannibal was forced to put on his calm, collected mask, despite his heart beating faster than he’d like in his chest.

“Dr. Lecter,” she said, “Did Jack call you?” Will spun around at that, stared at him with wide eyes, and took a reflexive step back as he approached.

“No,” Hannibal admitted, “I heard about it through the news. Will, can we-“

“I have to go,” Will said, looking from Hannibal to Beverly. He turned, rushing off, leaving Beverly confused, and more so when Hannibal went right after him without an explanation. Will swerved away from the crime scene, forcing his way into the cemetery, past the flashing lights and prying eyes and cops.

“Will, wait,” he said, as Will was slowing down. Will turned, watching Hannibal close the gap, standing a few feet back, respectably. Hannibal was rather pleased they had not stopped directly next to any headstones.

“Look, whatever you’re going to say,” Will said, “Just...don’t. I don’t think I can handle it. I’m _sorry_ , I really am. I was so out of line, and I can’t even blame the wine for it. You’ve done so much for me, Dr. Lecter, and I-I,” He stopped, his voice cracking, and Hannibal watched as he looked down at the floor. “I’m sure you’d be happy to no longer have to see me. I won’t visit for any more sessions- I won’t bother you at all.”

Hannibal sighed, walking towards Will, bypassing his comfort zone and grasping at his waist with one hand. The other cupped his cheek, thumb stroking the stubble along his jawline.

“Will,” he said, catching the man’s eyes, “Be quiet, please.” Will pinched his lips together for a moment, and Hannibal waited until they returned to lean in, kiss them gently. Will froze, and Hannibal slipped his arm fully around his waist, jerking him closer, still stroking his jawline. “I do not wish you to disappear, Will,” he admitted, pressing their foreheads together. “In fact, that is far from what I want.”

“What do you want?” It was a simple question, and Hannibal pondered his anger for only a moment, losing his resolve as Will’s breath puffed against his lips.

“You.”

Will choked on his breath, and when Hannibal kissed him again the psychiatrist was sure he stole his. He puled him so close their chests bumped, his hand running back into Will’s curls. Will gripped at his jacket, fighting to kiss him back, quivering noticeably. Hannibal kept the kiss light, just a sweet movement of lips, and when he pulled back Will was smiling-

It was a very welcome sight.

“Am I crazy?” Will asked, and Hannibal smiled, moving his lips up and kissing the bridge of his nose in a sudden fit of affection.

“No,” he soothed, “Although you are very, _very_ dense, Will Graham.” He chuckled and Will leaned back, laughing, letting his arms reach up and wrap around Hannibal’s neck as the man held him by his waist gently.

*

The two managed to make it to the cars without much interruption, walking side by side, as if nothing had changed. Will’s fingers itched to reach out and grab Hannibal’s hand, but he kept himself under control, despite the overwhelming giddiness he felt. They stopped at Hannibal’s car, Will knowing he couldn’t leave just yet.

“I’m sure I’ll be at the lab after my lecture tomorrow,” Will said, trailing off, and Hannibal smiled.

“I have a patient in the afternoon. Would you care to spend the evening with me, after?” Will smiled, leaning in, but stopping before he got too close to Hannibal’s lips, knowing he couldn’t just kiss him here, with everyone swarming around them.

“I’d love to.” Hannibal smiled and found Will’s hand, squeezed it gently. He pulled it to his lips, kissed a few of Will’s fingertips, and the special investigator felt his knees going weak. He stepped back so Hannibal could close the door and drive away, mentally counting down until he was with him again.

*

His lecture had been hard to focus on, but not impossible. His mind was torn between thoughts on the case, and thoughts of Hannibal. He had a dizzy sort of excitement in his gut about the evening- he wasn’t sure exactly what he should expect, and the mystery terrified and excited him.

They were still examining the third victim when he entered. He stood back, watching for a moment, before Jack acknowledged him. “What was her name?”

“Jillian Vess,” Zeller answered, “34. Married.” Will raised an eyebrow, and Jack cut in.

“Her husband got here about five minutes ago for questioning. I was waiting for you.” Will sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and following Jack out of the room, and into the interrogation room. Will didn’t like having family members of the victims in here, not when they weren’t suspects, but Jack seemed to like how easily it was to have other eyes watching them. Will didn’t feel like fighting him.

“Did you know about your wife’s online activities, Mr. Vess?” Jack asked, and the man shook his head, slumping forward.

“No. Jill she...she was always very bland in bed. It didn’t bother me, but she _never_ had any interest in anything new. Oh god, maybe if I had-“

“Don’t blame yourself,” Will said, “Did you notice anything different over the past few days?”

“No,” He said, “No, she was absolutely normal. Maybe smiled a little more than usual.”

“And where did she say she was going the night she disappeared?”

“Out for drinks with a few friends,” he said, “She dressed up a bit for it, but I thought she just wanted an excuse to look nice. God, I should have-“

He slumped down again, and Will looked at Jack, shaking his head. They weren’t going to get much more useful information here.

*

Will left with little more information than he went in with. He knew the new victim’s name, age, and that she was, indeed, a use of the same website, and had been in contact with the same user. But they were having problems tracking the account anywhere from the site, which left him feeling rather useless.

He drove to Hannibal’s, hoping it wasn’t an inconvenient time. When he rang the bell he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, anxious and all sorta of happy. Hannibal opened the door, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, apron on, and gave Will a charming smile, stepping aside so he could come in. The moment the door was closed Will turned, reaching for Hannibal and pulling him in for a rushed, breathy kiss. It lacked a real rhythm, and Hannibal was smiling into it in a way that made Will chuckle against his lips.

“Sorry,” he whispered, pulling back, “I uh, wanted to do that. All day.” Hannibal kept his charming smile and kissed his temple, waiting for Will to hang his coat up before leading him into the kitchen. He poured him a glass of wine, which Will took with a laugh.

“Last time you gave me wine, I half ambushed you on your couch,” Will said as Hannibal attended to the food he was cooking.

“Precisely why I am giving it to you again.” Will choked a little, watched Hannibal take a pleasant, slow drink, and couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

Dinner was, of course, delicious, and spent with a mix of _what did you do todays_ and flirty smiles. Will didn’t think he’d ever seen Hannibal smile so much, and he was sure he could have all of Baltimore on her knees if he smiled even half this much. It was glorious, it made Will _happy_ down in the pit of his stomach. He let him forget he was trying to find a serial killer in this mess of a world- that they even existed.

They moved to the sitting room after, and Will heard the music more clearly that had been playing in the background during their conversation- a lovely rhythm that seemed to wrap around his brain.

“What is this?” he asked, sitting down as Hannibal adjusted the volume.

“Bach’s Cello Suite, Number 1 in G,” he responded, turning back. He’d shed his apron, but had left his waist coat and jacket off, leaving him looking as casual as Will had ever seen him. He walked over, and the special investigator was pleased to see settled on the chaise longue next to him, leaving Will to lean slightly towards the raised edge. Hannibal watched the action, raising an eyebrow at Will, who laughed. “Is that an invitation, Will?”

Will’s cheeks flushed, and when he didn’t say anything Hannibal moved, pushing him down onto his back and laying over him, cupping his face in his strong hands as he kissed him. Will reached for him, wrapping his arms around the older man and holding him close as he let Hannibal lay between his legs, let him tip his head back so as his tongue flicked against Will’s lips and begged entry. He gave it with a soft sound, which made Hannibal slide along his body in such a way that Will gasped into his mouth, body suddenly alive from everything he was taking in.

One of Hannibal’s hands stayed in his hair, while the other ran along his side, fingers playing with the slight bulge from his flannel shirt being tucked into his jeans. Will wriggled around beneath him, one hand reaching his back to wind around his neck, play with the ends of his hair. Hannibal left his mouth then, nipped along his jawline, the stubble tickling him pleasantly. He nuzzled Will’s neck, nipping at his pulse point, and Will gasped, jerking a little. Hannibal laughed, rested his forehead against the man, who was blushing furiously.

“Sorry,” Will mumbled, “It’s been awhile.” Hannibal leaned back up, kissing his cheek before he sat up, pulling Will up with him.

“It’s alright Will,” he said, standing up to walk across the room and fetch his wine glass. Will watched him drink it for a minute, and Hannibal drank in the image of Will with his tussled hair and skewed glasses. “How is your case going? You did not bring it up over dinner.”

“Not really good dinner conversation,” he said, “And it’s at a dead end. We know how the women are connected, but as it stands we have no evidence as to who the killer is, other than a username for some sex site that is leading us nowhere. He’s some guy obsessed with power, I can tell you that much. He might be religious, he might just be sick and clinging to it, I’m not sure.” He watched Hannibal walk back over, settle in next to him again, and gently fix his glasses. Will let him, loving the slight brush of his fingers.

“I am sure you will find him,” Hannibal said.

“I hope so,” Will admitted. “He’s trying to impress someone, court someone. I think in Baltimore. The killing in Meadow Park was either a warning to someone, or a fluke. But his true target is in Baltimore.” He looked at Hannibal for a moment, then frowned. “Don’t forget to lock your door.”

Hannibal laughed, a rich sound that brought light to his burgundy eyes. “I am sure I am in no danger, Will.”

Will furrowed his brow, but accepted the light kiss Hannibal placed to his lips as a distraction for the disheartening topic.

*

Will left late that evening. Hannibal had considered extending an invitation for him to stay the night, but decided it would have only made the man feel awkward. He was not at the point where he was ready to jump into the man’s bed, but sleeping in one of the guest rooms might feel too impersonal. Instead he left for the hour drive back to his own home and bed, and Hannibal kissed him rather tenderly goodbye at the door, before turning in himself.

As he turned the last light off in his hallway and slipped into his bedroom, he rolled over the new details Will had given him. _Power obsessed, and courting someone in Baltimore_ he mused as he undressed and slipped into his pajamas. How very, _very_ interesting.

He lay down, wondering who this new Killer could be courting. It was always a fun thought to entertain that he was the subject of such brutal affection, but for some reason the idea lacked vigor that night. Hannibal sighed, realizing his mind would rather think about Will, and his affection- his fluttery, nervous yet _so eager_ affection-

Hannibal was not pleased with this turn of events, with the loss of what felt like a few strings of his control.

*

He had made sure to schedule his appointments for late that evening, left for a small, necessary trip. He would have liked the idea of spending the evening with Will, but he had things that needed to be attended to, he knew.

This time, when he drove through Minnesota, it was still daylight. This time, it was a part of the state he had not visited before. Both of which were crucial. The disguise would have to be better to pass in daylight, to pass to someone who was not yet intoxicated. He didn’t fear it wouldn’t, he just needed a willing participant.

That wasn’t as difficult, either. She was maybe a few years older than Abigail, but the perfect height, with matching hair. And when he approached her with his charming smile, it was all over. She didn’t bat much of an eye to his request to put on this set of clothes and parade around the city for a few hours as someone else.

“This alright?” she had asked after changing. Her name was Marissa- which brought images of the murdered girl to Hannibal’s mind, impaled on antlers. He fought down his smirk as he walked over, adjusting her scar so it was properly tucked in.

“Perfect,” he said, and she blushed a little.

“So what’s the deal? This girl in hiding and need a fake trail or something?” Hannibal had only told her to go by the name Abigail, and rolled an answer over in his mind briefly before speaking.

“She is a dear friend’s sister,” he said, “And has recently left a rather unhealthy environment. So yes, she is in a sort of hiding.”

“Well good luck to her,” Marissa said with a smile. “And don’t worry, I’ll do a good job. Anything to help a girl like that- or someone as charming as yourself.” She winked, then turned and left, and Hannibal finally allowed his smirk to show.

*

He made it to his office with just enough time to spare to make it look like he had been there the whole time. He checked his phone, saw two missed calls from Will, and a quick glance at the time told him he could afford a quick call to the man. “Hello Will,” he said, once he picked up, and heard a little happy noise come from the other end.

“Hannibal, hi, is this an okay time? I called twice, but when you didn’t call back I figured you had a busy day.”

“I have been busy, yes,” Hannibal said, and waited, curious as to what Will was thinking.

“Oh. Well...I was just...I’d like to see you.” He sounded nervous, and, pleased that he had gotten Will to admit it himself, Hannibal gave in to ease his discomfort.

“I’m afraid I have patients all evening,” he said, then quickly cut in to keep Will from feeling forlorn, “But perhaps you would like to join me tomorrow for breakfast? If it does not interfere with your teaching, that is.” He could hear the smile in Will’s voice as he agreed quickly, and that was oddly joyous. Hannibal was left with the realization that perhaps he was letting Will under his skin just as much as he was getting under his.


	7. Chapter 7

Will had barely been able to sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so excited over the prospect of seeing someone, that he actually had a reason to see someone so much. He wasn’t entirely sure what he and Hannibal had here, or would, but as it stood he felt a giddy sort of fluttering in his stomach over the man that made him feel embarrassingly like a teenager. And he wouldn’t trade the feeling for the world.

When Hannibal opened the door to greet him, he was in his robe, and Will realized, still his pajamas underneath. It made Will smile, and blush too when he kissed his cheek before he even got in the door. They walked towards the kitchen, Hannibal offering Will a chair so he could wait at the table, telling him he’d just be a minute.

They didn’t speak much at first, and Will welcomed it. He felt oddly calm, at home sitting there with Hannibal, sipping coffee and giving him long looks that Will _hoped_ displayed some sort of affection. By the way the man smiled at him, he thought he might be doing it right.

“How is your case?” Hannibal asked as he refilled their coffee after removing the dishes from the table. Will shrugged a shoulder with a sigh.

“At a stand still. And it bothers me. I’m worried the guy is going to kill again, and soon, if we don’t get a move on.” Hannibal nodded, watched as Will got up, needing to move a little after sitting. Hannibal pushed his chair back a little, gave him a look that made Will’s breath catch. For a moment he wasn’t sure if he interrupted it right, but decided _to hell with it_ , and slipped in between Hannibal and the table, leaning back against it. Hannibal smiled a sly sort of smile and stood up, pinning Will to the table in one quick movement and finding his mouth for a kiss.

Will’s mind blew into a thousand microscopic pieces in that moment, his nerves lighting up. He grasped at the man’s robe, kissing him back hungrily, mewling when Hannibal’s kiss turned into teeth and tongue and sharp bites with soothing movements to appease him. Will loved it, managed to get Hannibal’s robe open so he could lay his hands on his chest, running them over his torso and loving the feeling of the body beneath the fabric of his pajamas.

Hannibal’s hips pressed to Will’s, further pinning him, rocking gently, and Will forgot how to breathe, realizing Hannibal was half hard already and _Will was too_. He gasped for breath around his lips, until Hannibal leaned back, allowing him to gulp air down, eyes wide and nervous. Hannibal pulled away a little, dropping his head to kiss Will’s neck very gently.

“S-sorry,” Will stammered, angry at himself more than anything. Hannibal shushed him, nipping at his earlobe, before straightening up.

“Do not apologize, Will,” he said, reaching out to stroke his thumb along his jawline. “We will take this at whatever pace you desire.”

Will’s heart seized at that, lurching happily, and he threw his arms around Hannibal, embracing him tightly. Hannibal hesitated a moment, before he wrapped his arms around Will, stroking up along his spine.

*

“Abigail Hobbs has been seen in Minnesota,” was the greeting Will got from Jack that day. Will stared at him for a moment, trying to keep his mind from traveling back to that horrible day he dragged her there, to the feeling of waking up confused and cloudy and needing Hannibal. The feeling that he had done something terrible. “The police are looking into it, trying to find her.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found,” Will said, “And I can’t say I blame her, really.” Jack glared at him, but Will was too high from Hannibal’s mouth to care.

It must have been noticeable, because while sitting in silence looking over the files on the crimes, Beverly sighed and closed one folder, staring at Will. Will flicked his eyes up, confused, and asked quietly, “What?”, so as to keep Price and Zeller from turning their attention to them.

“You’re smiling,” she said, confused, “Why?” Will shrugged a shoulder. “No no no, don’t you shrug me. You don’t just _smile_ like that. Something is up.” Will said nothing, dropped his eyes back to the crime scene photos. Beverly frowned and grasped at them, shoving them to the side so he had nothing but the table to stare at. “Answers Graham, let’s go!”

“It’s nothing,” he said, “It’s just nice to feel...less crazy, ever since the Encephalitis.” Beverly stared at him, and he could see in her eyes she didn’t believe him. “It’s true-“

Will was saved by Jack coming in, a grim but somewhat triumphant look on his face.

“The account definitely belongs to someone in Baltimore,” he said, and Will reached for the papers and photos Beverly had scattered away.

“Well, at least we were right about our search area,” Beverly said. “So what next?”

“Unfortunately, a statement about the case and the website,” Jack said, “Just to make sure people stay off it for a time, until we catch this guy. And a cry for help.” He gritted his teeth, and Will knew the man didn’t like that idea at all.

*

“It’s lost it’s luster,” Richard said, leaning back in his chair, “Tying them up, gagging them, it’s just _boring_ now.” Hannibal tapped his pen lightly as his patient talked, watching his muddy eyes attempting to discretely take Hannibal in. To most it would have been unnerving, but Hannibal simply found it a dull amusement.

“Perhaps a new activity would be better suited for you, Richard, than to immerse yourself in your sexual obsessions. You would benefit from some mental stimulation.” Richard twisted his face up for a moment, shaking his head.

“No, no, I already know I’m smarter than most people. My brain is _stimulated_ enough. And it’s not about stimulation, it’s about knowing what I control, and what they don’t. The only reason I ever fuck these girls is because they expect it, and wouldn’t agree to any BDSM play without a happy ending for them after.” He frowned. “You understand though, don’t you, somehow? What it’s like to know you’re smarter than most, to know you can control them, but society tells you _no, no you have to suppress that_.”

Hannibal eyed Richard slowly, wondering exactly where the man was going to take this. Part of him livened up at the thought that this man saw that in him- while most of him, as always, was simply curious- because he was not on the same level as Richard-

He was far above it.

“I want them to see me as God,” Richard said, “Everyone. But these women...they _really_ need to see it. They make me sick.” He ran a hand through his hair, looked at his watch, and knew his time was up.

“Mental stimulation,” Hannibal said as the two stood up. “To keep your mind occupied. Humor me, Richard, and try it. We will discuss the outcome next week.” He walked Richard to the door opening it to find Will sitting in one of the chairs, hands folded, waiting patiently.

_Well this is a pleasant surprise_.

“Will,” he said, as the man stood up. Hannibal saw Richard’s eyes flick to the man, rove over him in an unpleasant way, and the corner of his mouth twitch.

“See you next week, Dr. Lecter,” Richard said, and Hannibal turned his attention to him, nodding his farewell, before turning back to Will.

“Come in,” he said, gesturing to his office. Will stood up and slipped past Hannibal, inside, as the man carefully let his hand slip along his lower back. Hannibal watched him shiver and smiled as he closed the door. He had been honest when he told Will they would take this at the pace he desired, but that did not mean he wasn’t going to push the man towards a slightly _faster_ pace. He wanted him completely ensnared before someone else could think of sinking their claws into him.

Simply, he wanted him, in a way Hannibal had not ever truly wanted someone. He excited him in a physical way he had not planned on. He warmed him in a way he had not originally desired, but now craved. It was maddening, frustrating, exquisite.

“What can I help you with, Will?” The man paced around the office, a little on edge, but Hannibal could feel most of it was just a nervous sort of excitement.

“I hope you don’t mind that I just dropped by.”

“Have I ever minded, Will?” Will said nothing, and Hannibal settled into his chair, watching him for a moment. “Is there something troubling you?”

“Yes. And no.” Will sighed, raked a hand through his hair. “Abigail Hobbs was sighted. She’s still roaming around Minnesota.” Hannibal masked his smile and simply nodded. “I’ve been so wrapped up in this case and...other things, I nearly forgot.” Will didn’t need to elaborate on the _other things_ , Hannibal knew that was a category all his own. Will chewed on his lower lip, and Hannibal motioned him to come closer.

“William,” he said, his voice almost stern, “Abigail Hobbs is quite alive. You have done no damage to the girl.”

“Not physically anyway,” Will said, “I probably scared her half to death when I had my episode. But I almost...I hope she doesn’t come back.” He looked down at Hannibal’s shoes. “I hope she moves on and _forgets_. Lord knows I can’t.”

Hannibal sighed, reaching out to grab Will’s wrist. It was loose at first, but a moment later he tightened his hold and pulled the man closer. Will stumbled a little, and Hannibal reached out with his other hand, guiding him right down onto his lap in the chair. Will made a surprised sound, tensing up, before one of Hannibal’s arms wrapped around his waist and held him in place.

“Relax,” he whispered, leaning in to brush his nose along Will’s jawline. Will listened, attempting to relax his muscles and melt into Hannibal’s hold, feeling a light brush of lips along his neck. “What else is on your mind? Surely not only Abigail Hobbs.”

“Am I different?” He asked, reaching up and taking his glasses off. Hannibal plucked them from his fingers and settled them on a small table next to the chair.

“How would you be different, Will?”

“Beverly said I was smiling,” he blurted out, “Today, while I was looking over the crime photos. Just smiling for no reason- and I realized she was right.”

Hannibal hesitated a moment, before he gave in and _laughed_. Will looked at him, confused, as the man shook his head, those sand-gray bangs slipping onto his forehead.

“Will,” he said, still chuckling, “Did you stop to consider that perhaps you are _happy_?” Will said nothing, and Hannibal shook his head, kissing the corner of his mouth. The special investigator smiled at that, squirming around a little, obviously enjoying the attention and their current _position_.

“I’m not used to being happy,” Will admitted, “Not...like this, anyway. Not _with_ someone.” He sucked his lower lip into his mouth for a moment. “I mean...I’m with you, right?” He averted his eyes, and Hannibal raised an eyebrow, before running his hand along Will’s thigh.

“Are you not currently with me?” Will realized maybe Hannibal didn’t _get_ it, and he fought with himself on how to phrase this.

“I mean-“

“Are we in some sort of relationship, now?” Will nodded, and Hannibal was struck with how naive the man really could be. Most definitely not enough interaction. He kept running his hand along Will’s thigh, soothingly. “We are whatever you want us to be, Will.”

Will seemed to relax at that, but he did not voice his choice. Hannibal was curious if he was at ease because it meant they _were_ , or if he was relieved that it did not have to be something official. He had to consider what _he_ wanted the answer to be.

“I didn’t tell Beverly anything,” he said, slipping an arm around Hannibal’s shoulders to play with the ends of his hair. “I’ll just have to learn to control myself better.”

“I hope not,” Hannibal said, “I rather like you smiling.” He leaned in, kissed Will’s mouth this time, slowly at first, curious to see where Will would take it. The fingers in his hair tightened as Will tried to control the kiss, deepening it, which made Hannibal smirk in amusement against his mouth. He was getting a little bolder- Hannibal wondered if he could-

He stopped himself. Stopped himself from wondering, and let his hand glide easily up Will’s thigh, slipping between them and massaging him gently through his pants. Will gasped, before he nipped at Hannibal’s lip playfully, and Hannibal took that as the only _okay_ he was going to need. His fingers worked on the button and zipper of his jeans, all the while his brain mildly distracted by the way Will was kissing him and tugging on his hair, the feeling of him squirming around on his lap- making him want to _drive_ into that body and hear him screaming.

It took longer than Hannibal would have expected for him to get Will’s jeans open, but when he did he made haste pulling the man free. Will gasped, breaking the kiss at the feeling of Hannibal’s hand wrapped around him, stroking him gently. He leaned back, baring his neck, and Hannibal couldn’t resist, biting down in a way that made Will rock his hips harder into his hand, suck gently on his skin as his tongue flicked against it. Will’s breath was coming in rapid huffs, his cheeks flushing as he tried to tip his head back down, whimpering as Hannibal dug his teeth in deeper, his hand twisting around the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned, burying his hand in Hannibal’s hair and tugging. It had been so long since someone else touched him, his body was ready to explode within seconds, and he fought it down, licking his lips and wishing Hannibal would kiss him again. The psychiatrist took the hint and sought out Will’s mouth, kissing him deeply, drinking down every moan, loving every buck of his hips. Will was so far gone already that it made Hannibal’s stomach tighten with excitement, made him wonder how many other ways he could bring him to the brink within just minutes.

Will was clutching at him with both hands now, clinging for dear life and whispering into Hannibal’s mouth that he was _close, so close_ , and Hannibal timed his strokes perfectly that his palm rested over the head of Will’s cock when his orgasm hit him, causing him to bite Hannibal’s lip and tug on his hair in an _exquisitely painful_ way. Hannibal stroked him through his, his palm and fingers wet and warm, evidence of hoe pent up Will had truly been.

Will slumped back, breaking the kiss, trying to catch his breath, his pupils blown. Hannibal smiled at the sight, managing to use his clean hand to tuck Will away, although fastening the man’s jeans was beyond his ability.

“That was...” Will licked his lips, looking for words, before he looked at Hannibal, _right at him_ through his dark lashes. “Amazing.”

Hannibal laughed, patting Will’s lower back and butt gently, and Will took the hint and slipped off his lap onto hsi shaky legs. Hannibal disappeared to wash his hands as Will fastened his jeans, his hands shaking. It occurred to him maybe he should do something in return-

The idea made his breath escalate again. He wouldn’t know what to do, how to do it- he’d never been with another man, and either Hannibal _had_ , or he was just amazing at everything that involved his hands-

_Or he can read me perfectly_.

That idea was equally as terrifying and thrilling.

When Hannibal returned and wrapped an arm around Will, kissing his temple. Will leaned against him, content, though the thought was still on his mind if he should-

“I’m sure you are exhausted, Will,” Hannibal said, “Are you alright for the drive home?” The invitation was open, and Will realized he could easily say yes or no, whatever he decided. And though he liked the idea of sleeping in the same house as Hannibal- maybe the same room even- he wasn’t sure he was ready for anything it might promise.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’ll be fine.” He looked away for a moment, “Should I-“

“Get going before it does get too late,” Hannibal said. He took Will’s face in his hands, looked at him with those burgundy eyes, “You can stop worrying, Will. I am not asking for any return.”

“Thank you,” Will breathed, and Hannibal knew it was for many things. He kept his arm around him until they reached the door, and then opted to take his hand instead, seeing how Will’s eyes lit up from the minor contact. He led him all way the to the building’s exit, kissed him one last time, and then watched him leave.

Hannibal returned to his office to get his coat and head home himself, still tasting Will’s moans on his tongue. It was intoxicating, and for a moment there was _nothing_ else in the world except that man and his stormy eyes, and Hannibal wondered if Will actually had boundaries or if he simply bled into him and became on single being.

*

Will shuffled around the lab, holding a arm full of the files on the current case, intending to take them home with him after his visit to Hannibal. This one was for his informal session- since Hannibal would of course point out that Will had never been his patient- and Will thought he might use the time to pick at the man’s brain for more help with the case. He didn’t think Hannibal would mind.

He was close to the exit when he heard the pick up of heels, someone calling his name. He turned, saw Alana hurrying to catch up to him, and he paused so that she could.

“Should you be taking the case home with you?” she asked, obviously concerned still, and Will shrugged a shoulder.

“I’m taking it to Hannibal’s office, actually,” he admitted. Alana didn’t say anything about that, just followed him out to his car. He opened the passenger door and set the files on the seat, reaching up to unbutton the top button of his shirt so he could breathe easier, just as Beverly emerged as well, trying to hail the two of them. She rushed over, stopped as Will’s hand fell back down to the door, eyes widening. “What?” Will asked, confused, when Alana mirror her expression to a more controlled extent.

“Will...you’re neck!” Beverly exclaimed, and Will reached up, fingers bruising over the tender, bruised spot Hannibal had left two nights prior. His cheeks flushed and he tried to button his shirt again, but Beverly was swatting at his arm, leaning into his space to get a better look. “Good lord Will, I guess that’s why you’ve been smiling so much! What’s her name?”

Will leaned back, pressing against the seat in the car, and saw Alana’s disappointed look. It broke his heart a little, and he looked back to Beverly, unable to handle it.

“No, I-“ he started, but stopped, because what was he going to say? _Well, Hannibal and I had this drunken kiss, totally my fault, and now we’re in some sort of relationship, and he jerked me off the other night and left this as a reminder_. Oh, yes, that would go over _so_ well. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh it’s something,” Beverly said, “And I want the details. C’mon Graham, don’t hold back! Maybe a drink will loosen you up?”

“I have an appointment to get to,” he said, much to Beverly’s disappointment.

“With crime scene photos and your pack of strays?” Alana was still being silent behind her, and Will wanted nothing more than to get away from the situation.

“With Hannibal,” he said, “Weekly visit.”

“No way Hannibal is more fun than this.” _Oh, if only you knew_. “But fine. You owe me an explanation and a drink now, Will.” She turned to Alana, giving her a smile. “How about you Alana? Need a drink?”

“Desperately,” she said, not looking at Will as she followed Beverly away. Will scrambled into his car, too happy to get away from them.

*

He didn’t sit and wait for Hannibal to open his door, he paced, holding the files. When he finally did appear, he took one look at Will, raised his eyebrows, and moved aside to let the nervous man in before even saying anything.

“What is the matter, Will?”

“Beverly saw this,” he said, dropping the files on Hannibal’s desk and turning, pointing to the bruise on his neck. “I thought we were going to play 20 questions over it. I’m lucky she gave up and let me leave in one piece.”

“Agents Katz is rather nosy. It’s quite rude.” Hannibal made a mental note, but Will was waving him off, and he frowned inwardly. Even if it was tempting, he agreed her rather spunky personality had an endearing quality- and Will was fond of her, he knew, even if he spent most of his time talking of her complaining about her.

“Alana saw it too,” he said, looking rather glum. Hannibal frowned openly.

“And how did Dr. Bloom react?”

“She looked...hurt.” Will sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this right now, is that’s okay with you? I was hoping you might be able to help me think through the case again.” Hannibal walked over, placing his hand gently on Will’s lower back, peering at the crime scene photos he had splayed out over his desk. “They all were users on the same website. For people with...rape fantasies.” Hannibal could tell by Will’s expression he didn’t understand it, and he thought Will could benefit from some secure loss of control.

But that could wait.

“They all talked to the same user. Some Obscurity82. He’s killing them because they’re _aroused_ during it all- that’s the test. They like it, and for some reason he doesn’t like that. He finds it...appalling, maybe disrespectful.” Will sighed, and Hannibal took his words in, rolling them over, before his mouth set into a frown.

“Will.”

“Hmmm?” He was moving the photos around, half paying attention, looking for a specific one. Hannibal walked around the desk, opening a drawer and pulling out his appointment book. Suddenly, it all made perfect sense.

“Will.” He said it sternly this time, and the man looked up. “This...breaches doctor patient confidentiality, but I’m going to place this book on my desk, and you are going to open it.” Hannibal did so, and Will raised his eyebrows, but did so, flipping through the pages.

“It’s your appointment book.”

“The back. Look towards the back.” Will did as he was told, found a section for general notes on his patients. Names, contact information, ages. He flipped to the veyr end, for the most recent patients, noticed that he was absent from the list. _I guess I really never was officially his patient_. Will scanned through them, not sure what he was looking for, until a number stood out to him. _1982_.

“Richard Blake,” he said, and Hannibal sighed.

“He may be the man you’re looking for.” Will looked up at him, confused. “Do not make me elaborate, Will. I am bound to not disclose this information. Call Jack, and look into him.” Will said nothing, just pulled his phone out and walked to the other side of the room, speaking quickly when Jack picked up. Hannibal closed the book, returning it to its proper place within his desk, and remembered the look Richard had given Will when leaving the appointment, the predatory look he’d given Hannibal. Coupled with his god complex, Hannibal would bet his chest full of secrets this was the man they wanted.

Which meant he _had_ been the man the killer had been trying to impress.

“Jack wants to see us,” he said, “Can you come with me?” Hannibal nodded his _of course_ , and grabbed his jacket, allowing Will the privilege this time of driving.


	8. Chapter 8

Jack met them in the hallway and barked at them to get in his office. Hannibal saw Will tense, and wished he wouldn’t allow the man to get to him so. They slipped inside and closed the door, and Jack looked right at Hannibal with an angry stare.

“Tell me way this is our guy. And don’t doctor patient confidentiality bullshit me.” Hannibal sat down, opening his jacket, and kept his look calm.

“Richard has an obsession with control. He has been releasing it through controlled situations such as bondage, but he is, of late, unhappy with this. I believe he is growing bored- or grew bored. The act was never about his sexual release, either. He told me that he only has intercourse with the women so they will agree in the first place.” He shifted around. “I could see him playing out these rape fantasies and enjoying it. And perhaps the first one or two were just that. But now...I believe he may have escalated, maybe he killed one on accident and got a taste for it, created an delusional reason as to why these women should die.” He paused for a moment. “He told me he would like these women to see him as God, that they disgust him.”

“Fits our profile,” Will pointed out as Jack folded his hands and placed them on his desk.

“I’ll get a warrant,” he said, “but I don’t think it will go through tonight. I’ll try, but until then, I’ve got some men watching his home, just in case.” He looked at Will. “You should stay in Baltimore tonight. I want you here when we get him.” Will hesitated, before he stood up, Hannibal following suit. “Keep your phone on.”

The two left just as quickly as they came, Will tense, Hannibal quiet, until they had driven a few blocks away.

“Shall I offer?” Hannibal asked, looking over at Will, “Or would you rather I not.”

“I’d rather stay with you than in a hotel,” Will said, shooting him a glance, and Hannibal smiled and reached over, squeezing his knee affectionately. They didn’t bother to retrieve Hannibal’s car, instead drove straight home. Once instead and stripped of their coats, Hannibal poured the each a glass of wine and offered to make dinner. “You know, you don’t have to,” Will mused, and Hannibal laughed.

“Simple, I promise. I had not planned on a guest, so I am afraid I’m not prepared for more than that.” Will laughed and kissed his cheek, taking the time to nibble down along his jawline playfully, then turned and left him to it, knowing Hannibal would probably prefer to cook without his hindrance. He went into the sitting room, realizing as he did so that he had left his files in the car. Even if it seemed like the case would be closed now, it didn’t hurt for him to have a final look, just to be safe.

“I’ll be right back,” he called, setting his wine glass down. “I left something in my car.” He headed towards the door, pulling his keys from his pocket, and opened it, stopping dead when he realized there was someone standing there. “Uh, hi,” he said, looking at the man in an expensive suit, and wondering if Hannibal had been expecting company and somehow forgotten. Something about him was familiar, though.

The man grinned, and before Will could move shoved his way inside, the door slamming shut and Will was thrown against the wall. His keys fell from his hand and he slumped, groaning, the man reaching down for him, pulling him up.

“I bet you’d fail too,” he said, looking at Will, “You have that _look_ just like they did. You’d _want_ it, you’d miss the whole fucking point of it.” Will gritted his teeth and grasped the man’s wrists, managing to raise his knee up and get him in his gut. He let go, and Will tumbled to the floor again, the man staggering back. When he looked up with fire in his eyes, Will recognized him-

The man who had left Hannibal’s office the other night, who had looked at him a minute too long, before Hannibal had-

Will was jerked back to reality as the man lunged on top of him, grabbing his had and smacking it into the wood floor. The world spun and Will heard him rustling around in his pockets, the sound of a switch blade opening.

“I’m not even going to test you,” he said, “you fail just for distracting _him_.” He plunged the knife down into Will’s thigh, twisted it, and Will cried out, head jerking back as his hands clenched on the man’s jacket. As the knife was pulled free he trashed, throwing him off, and managed to sit up, blood welling up through his jeans.

Richard looked at him with wild eyes, poised to strike again, when his gaze flicked up, and he relaxed a little. Will turned, followed his eyes, saw Hannibal standing at the end of the hallway. He’d lost his jacket and waist coat, and simply had his crisp dress shirt- white, with the sleeves expertly rolled up and the first three buttons open. Richard smiled at him.

“I couldn’t go on without you know any longer,” he said, sounded like he was pleading. “I wanted you to see- to _appreciate_ all I was doing. The power I had.” He looked at Will, almost snarled. “He’s a horrible distraction.”

Hannibal didn’t speak, took a few steps towards them, watching. Will couldn’t read his eyes. “I’m going to carve his heart into the forbidden fruit,” Richard said, “Because that’s exactly what it is. You can’t have him and have _this_.” Richard sounded crazy to Will, but he saw something in the corners of Hannibal’s eyes then, some sort of truth, and then Richard was lunging at Will against, knife aimed. Will fell, grabbed his arms and fought back, got his head slammed into the wall just as Hannibal reached him, grabbed Richard by his jacket and dragged him off, tossing him as if he was garbage.

He crouched down, helped Will slump against the wall, and Will cursed that he didn’t have his gun- it was locked in his glove box, currently. He hadn’t wanted it to get in the way if he and Hannibal had tested any boundaries again. Will was convinced he was an idiot.

Richard staggered back up, staring at the two, an almost wounded look in his eyes. “You’d pick this tramp over _art_ , over control?” Hannibal turned, and when he stood Will felt something crackling off him. He was seething yet he looked perfectly tranquil- but Will could _feel_ it. Richard sucked on his teeth, before he charged Hannibal, knife pointed to ram into his stomach. Hannibal grabbed him, the knife stopping less than an inch from him, and forced him back, smacking him into the wall. Richard went lax, caused Hannibal to lean too close, then jerked one arm free and punched him straight in the jaw, making him stumble back and taste blood.

He took the chance to shove him against the wall, the hallway giving neither much space to move away, grasping a handful of his hair and jerking his head back, just in time for Hannibal to kick his legs out from beneath him. Will could see them clearly now, his head no longer spinning, and he tried to stand but gave a short cry and stumbled back down, his blood having soaked his pant leg from the deep, jagged cut, and leaving wet splotches all over the wood floor.

His heart was hammering wildly, so sure that Hannibal, who had no training, was going to be bested, and he was going to be forced to do _nothing_.

Richard dropped his knife, grabbing Hannibal by the leg and pulling him down as well. He rolled on top of him, wrapped his hands around his neck and squeezed, grinning madly. Will forced himself up, and despite the pain, tore towards them, eyes wild now, just as Hannibal _calmly_ wrapped his hand around the knife Richard had dropped and brought it up, straight into the man’s neck. He shoved it in to the hilt, then tore it out, and Richard grasped at his own throat, blood sputtering out all over he and Hannibal and the floor. Hannibal shoved him off and he collapsed in his own blood, going limp.

Will collapsed back down to the ground, saw Hannibal go lax after a moment, panting. Will reached out, fumbled around for _something_ , and Hannibal was lifting his hand, grabbing Will’s and squeezing it, tiling his head back to look at him, his hair disheveled. He was still gripping the knife.

*

When the police arrived, everyone had rushed Hannibal, seeing his blood soaked shirt, thinking he was injured. He redirected them to Will, and the special investigator could hear the raw nerves in his voice, something he never had before.

Will was helped out to an ambulance, where they cut the tear in his jeans wider to look at the wound. He sucked his breath in sharply, staring out as people flooded Hannibal’s home for pictures, to examine Richard’s body.

They were still cleaning the wound when Hannibal was finally allowed over, having been stopped by a set of officers intent on hearing his rendition of the events. Will gave him a tired smile, then yelped when the paramedic began to- without warning- stitch his leg. He hissed, and Hannibal grasped his hand, squeezing so tightly Will wasn’t sure if he’d ever get it back.

The wound was being bandaged when Jack pushed his way over, looking at the mess the two men were, and frowning. He didn’t say anything for a minute, and Will wasn’t sure what he was seeing on his face.

“You should go to the hospital,” he said to Will, who only shook his head. He looked at Hannibal, eyeing the shirt, and Will filled in for him.

“It’s...not his,” he said, and Jack sighed.

“This is going to be a mess to clean up,” he muttered, turning away, and Will knew he meant the mess of Hannibal’s home and the mess with the media. In that moment, Will didn’t care, and would love to tell Jack to simply stick it up his ass, but he was exhausted. He wanted to curl up and pass out, not open his eyes for a few days-

But more so, he wanted to curl up with Hannibal.

“Will!” Beverly was pushing her way past a few officers, intent on closing the gap between them. The paramedic left Will’s side and moved to Hannibal, looking at his split lip and questioning him about the blood on his shirt. “Shit, you look-“

“Like shit,” Will said with a hoarse laugh. “Feel it too.”

“You going to be okay?” He nodded. She looked at Hannibal, saw the blood, and the psychiatrist tried to raise his hand to calm her, unable to do much else as he was poked about.

“Not his,” Will said, tightening his hold on Hannibal’s hand. Beverly saw his arm muscle tense and followed them. If she noticed their hands, she said nothing.

When Will was given the okay to leave, and Hannibal checked and rechecked, the two were allowed to leave the scene. Exhausted, and with no other options unless they wanted to check into a hotel looking like extras from a horror movie, they climbed into Will’s car- Will in the passenger seat this time, nursing his leg.

“They’ll be cleaning that up for a while,” Will said with a frown as they sat there in otherwise silence. “You uh...you can stay with me if you want.” He looked down at his hands, not wanting to meet Hannibal’s gaze. “I mean, I know it’s way different from your home, and full of dogs- but my house is always open to you.”

Will waited for a response, and got one when he felt Hannibal’s fingers toying with his hair. He didn’t need to say anything, and Will leaned back, closing his eyes as Hannibal started the car.

*

Will had called in a favor, so his dogs had been fed while he was gone, and were all curled up when he unlocked the door and the two stepped inside. They lifted their heads, but otherwise didn’t move as Will relocked the door, his shoulders slumping. Hannibal helped him up the stairs, and to his bedroom.

“Do you want a shower?” Will asked, realizing Hannibal had been forced to stay in the blood stained shirt the entire time. In fact, he hadn’t even been allowed back into his house for _anything_.

“Very much,” Hannibal admitted, already working on the buttons of the ruined shirt and peeling it off his body. His skin and chest hair had a pinkish stain, but despite it Will looked, having yet to see Hannibal undressed in any real way. He must have stared longer than he intended, because he realized Hannibal was watching him, and his cheeks flushed as he looked away.

“Here, I’ll get you-“

“Stay,” Hannibal said, resting his hand on Will’s shoulder. Will sighed, but listened, laying back and waving his hand in the direction of a dresser.

“Take whatever you need,” he said, sure he had some pajamas that hadn’t even been worn yet. He listened to Hannibal open the dresser, then leave the bedroom as it fell into silence. Will closed his eyes, heard the shower running in the distance, an oddly soothing sound. He drifted in and out after just minutes, his leg throbbing slightly. He didn’t hear the shower turn off, or Hannibal’s quiet movements minutes later.

What he felt were his eyes. They stirred him form his half sleep, and he pushed himself up on his elbows, looking at Hannibal as he stood in the dim doorway, lit by the moonlight streaming in through Will’s windows. He was half naked, Will realized, having forgone proper pajamas and slipped on only the bottoms, and he was just _watching_ Will. Had it been anyone else, it would have been unnerving- but it was Hannibal, and Will’s breathing became rapid as he held his eyes for a moment, before the man finally moved.

He slipped onto the bed, between Will’s legs and laid against him, careful to avoid his wounded thigh. He kissed him, let Will wrap his arms around his neck, and the special investigator could feel him holding back, feel something crackling under his skin.

Suddenly, he wanted to see it.

“Stop,” he whispered, and Hannibal pulled away, looking at Will as if he meant _stop entirely_. Will shook his head. “No, not that. Stop this.” He waved his hand towards him, finding words difficult at the moment. “Stop holding _back_.” There was a moment where Hannibal just looked at him, and Will wondered if maybe he was simply _crazy_ and tired and had confused the man, when he kissed him again, this time with an urgency that left Will’s mind blank. He grabbed at him, holding him close, mouth devouring him so ruthlessly that Will would do nothing but try to hang on as Hannibal rocked gently down against him, and Will wanted it- wanted him, wanted to feel like there was no air between them.

He was terrified.

Hannibal was murmuring his name, taking his kisses to Will’s neck, hands working on his shirt. Once it was open and they were chest to chest, skin to skin, Will realized how badly he had ached for it, and hurt somewhere in his stomach over only knowing now. He tipped his head back, Hannibal pepper kisses and brushes of teeth along his collar bone, his hands moving down to work on unfastening Will’s jeans. Will tugged his shirt off, tossing it aside, and when Hannibal had his destroyed jeans open, he attempted to lift his hips to help him remove them. Hannibal stopped him, hooking an arm around his waist and supporting him, instead allowing Will to guide them down his thighs, past his wound which hurt irrespective of the care they administered.

Will let Hannibal take over once everything was bunched at his knees, and rather liked watching him toss his clothing away until he was laying there naked- and the realization made him flush, have to avert his eyes because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been naked around someone, especially like this. Hannibal noticed, he was sure, but instead of bringing it to light, he went back to paying acute attention to Will, his lips closing around one of his nipples and teasing it gently, as his hand ran down Will’s stomach, grasping his cock to stroke him slowly.

Will sucked in a breath, gave a half moan, half gasp, pushing towards him. He chewed on his lip until it felt raw, felt Hannibal’s over hand slip beneath his thigh to squeeze his ass for a moment, before a finger slipped between his cheeks to brush his hole. Will jumped, losing his breath, and Hannibal pulled back- but Will was reaching for him, grasping him behind his neck and pulling him up, kissing him as he shook with the sweetest combination of fear and confusion and pure _want_.

Will wasn’t sure why, but he needed this. Had the night not gone straight to hell, he was sure he would still be nothing but terrified at the idea, confused if it was even something he _could_ want, but now, seeing Hannibal’s raw, dark eyes, he thought he might die if he didn’t close every space between them, eat away at it until he didn’t know where Hannibal stopped and he began.

“Nightstand,” was all he said against Hannibal’s mouth, and watched as the man slipped off the bed to rummage through it, coming back holding a small bottle. He gave Will a curious look, coupled with a teasing smile, and Will pulled his glasses off, raking a hand through his hair. “Don’t,” he warned, “It’s helpful for _anyone_ you’re with.”

Hannibal said nothing, and Will gave in for a moment and tried to take him in, his hair drying, slightly unkempt from Will’s touches, his solid chest, and muscles along his arms that held far more power than Will would have realized-

For a moment he was back in Hannibal’s home, watching him, the ferocity behind his hits, wondering what his eyes looked like when he stabbed Richard-

“Will.” It was soft, and Will blinked, realized Hannibal was back on the bed with him, stroking his uninjured thigh. “Stay with me,” he said, and Will nodded, watched as Hannibal popped open the bottle and poured a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. He fidgeted around, until Hannibal was guiding him to lay back more, kissing the pulse point of his neck, tongue flicking out to feel his pulse. “Relax Will,” he said, his words honeyed and thick, and Will wondered how much control it was taking Hannibal to go this slow. He wondered if he had that same feeling in his gut that this _needed_ to happen.

When his finger first pushed inside Will, he tensed all over despite Hannibal’s words, grinding his teeth together. It didn’t _hurt_ , but it felt completely foreign, and Will wasn’t sure what his body thought of it, what _he_ thought of it. Hannibal was very gently in moving it slowly, and Will was just beginning to relax when a second joined it. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, worried it as Hannibal nipped at his earlobe as gently thrust them in and out of his body, pausing every few thrusts to scissor them. Will whined, a not entirely broken, not all together scared sound, and Hannibal did it again, and again, making Will abandoned the torture of his lip in order to moan, tipping his head back, unsure when it had gone from foreign to _good_.

He felt Hannibal chuckle against his skin, and his fingers tilting, pushing deep inside him and brushing a spot that made Will cry out, eyes widening. He did it again, again, again, barely giving Will time to breathe, and then a third finger had joined and Will was coming undone at the seams, quivering and not sure if he wanted to beg Hannibal for _more_ , or to stop so he could have _him_. He was glad when Hannibal made the decision for him, pulling away and standing up tp strip. Will felt delirious, and he watched, eyes raking over him and trying to take in all the skin and perfection he could before Hannibal was between his legs, one hand stroking himself- which was driving Will positively _mad_ \- the other helping to position Will.

He leaned over and kissed him as he eased into Will’s body. Will felt like he was too small, but his body stretched to accept Hannibal, and he moaned into his mouth, heard Hannibal responding too, as he pushed until he could go no deeper, and suddenly that space between them was _gone_ and Will was full and it was all _perfect_.

Hannibal rocked into him slowly, and Will wrapped his arms around him, breaking the kiss and lick along Hannibal’s jawline, nip the skin and gasp into it, murmuring quietly for _more_. He heard Hannibal groan at his voice, thrust in faster, and Will’s cock jumped when that same spot inside him was assaulted. He cried out, dug his fingers into Hannibal’s shoulders, tried to shift around, to spread his legs wider, to push closer to Hannibal- but his thigh jabbed at him with pain, and he hissed.

Hannibal tore free from his grasp, pinned him down, grabbed at his arms and forced them by the wrist to the mattress, and Will saw something breaking in his eyes- something cracking, something that he hadn’t even really known had been there- he’d seen glimpses of it, this control, but never so clearly. He hooked one leg around him, wanting to wrap both around his waist, but knew it wouldn’t end well in his current condition. He pulled Hannibal deeper with his hold, though, cried out as Hannibal’s body rubbed along his, his cock hard and throbbing between them.

Will held Hannibal’s gaze, no matter how much his eyes wanted to tear away. Each thrust caused another crack, another, and Will was so close that he could barely breathe.

“Hannibal _please_ ,” he cried, and that was it- that gaze shattered like glass, millions of splinters falling away to reveal the storm beneath. Hannibal fucked him with abandon, And Will was moaning and crying out with each thrust, rocking back into Hannibal, drowning in the tumult behind those eyes- the murderous need, the power and brilliance and the string that held it all together, a sick, convoluted thing that Will realized was _love_ in its rawest form.

When he came, it was for that, that look, those eyes, the fact that he was seeing _into_ Hannibal for the first time, and that was what he had needed, needed to feel so close that there was no start and end, just this chain of endless being, where he was Hannibal and Hannibal was him. He screamed his name, his body holding tight as his cock erupted between them, Hannibal pressing into him a few more times and then riding out his own orgasm, huffing Will’s name against his neck.

They lay there for a second, three, minutes, Hannibal on top of Will, mouth moving against his neck, but if he was speaking, Will couldn’t hear him. His head was buzzing with the sound of nothing, his fingers and toes tingling. When Hannibal moved, pulling out, there was a sudden absence, emptiness, that made him feel _wrong_ , but he kept that to himself as Hannibal left to get a towel to clean them up. He was gentle with Will when he returned, and Will wanted to remind him he wasn’t something that you could just _break_ , but realized it might be a lie, and that maybe, Hannibal needed this, this moment of tenderness to reconstruct the film over his eyes.

When Hannibal returned the second time, he crawled into bed, still naked, and wrapped his arms around Will. He didn’t speak, and Will didn’t want him to, just closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his body, warm, solid, _there_ , against him, realizing had the night gone slightly differently, it might not be.

*

Will woke up to something cold and wet pressed against his foot, and he lifted his head from his arms, looking blurry eyed to where his good leg had managed to half flop off the bed, saw Winston nudging his foot.

“Winston,” he groaned, thinking it was too early to be living, and flopped his head back down. Next to him, Hannibal stirred at his voice, the arm around his waist tightening. Will sighed as Winston licked at his ankle, pulling his leg back under the covers. “I need to let the dogs out,” he mumbled, half to himself and half to Hannibal, before he pushed himself up. Hannibal released his waist, sitting up as well, his hair disheveled from sleep. Will was almost surprised- part of him had thought that perhaps the man woke up looking as put together as he always was.

Maybe it was from his hair being wet when they went to bed.

Maybe it was the sex.

Will blushed, feeling tender in places he’d _never_ thought he would, and swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing. He grabbed his underwear and slipped them up to his knees, forcing himself to stand to finish the job. No sooner had he gotten them up he crashed back down to the bed, giving a surprised cry, his leg aching as if someone had lit it on fire. “Fuck,” he breathed, wondering just how deeply Richard had stabbed him. Hannibal reached out, running his hand along Will’s shoulders.

“Careful,” he advised, and slipped from the bed, finding the pants he had borrowed from Will and putting them on. He found one of Will’s white t-shirts and handed it to him, then helped him up, Winston watching with a bemused, curious look. A few steps and the pain began to dull, Will easing into it, until he was walking, albeit with a bit of a limp, on his own.

He let the dogs out and stayed on the porch, watching them run into the yard, arms folded across his chest, trying to piece together the scattered bits from the night before. He figured for most it’d be understandable- there’d been a traumatic event, and in a fit of uneasiness, he and Hannibal had needed that affirmant that they both were still _there_. Will knew it wouldn’t have happened without it, not yet, but he couldn’t say he was upset over it. Part of him was relieved it was over with, there wasn’t that looming wonder at the end of the tunnel of _would he actually go so far as to have sex with the man_?

He had his answer. And he liked his answer.

Will whistled for the dogs after a few minutes, and held the door open as they ran inside. He followed suit, heard Hannibal coming down the stairs. He’d changed back into his own pants, and was holding his destroyed shirt, frowning.

“I wonder if the police would be so kind as to allow me into my home for some clothing,” he said with a sigh, and Will laughed.

“Maybe if we ask Jack nicely,” he said. “I’d offer you some coffee, but I can’t compete with the stuff you make,” Will teased. Hannibal smiled.

“I think I can go without,” he said, “but I would not be against a trip to procure a few things.”

“Let me just get some pants,” Will said with a flirtatious smile, one that Hannibal returned, and he was _definitely_ sure he was happy it had all happened.


	9. Chapter 9

They had been allowed into Hannibal’s house, where the man gladly disappeared to put himself together, sparing the blood stains on his nice floor only a passing glance. Will stood at the doorway with the officers who had been waiting for the clean up crew to arrive. When Hannibal returned, hair in order, dressed in a fresh suit, he looked absolutely himself again.

The good news was, they would have the mess cleaned up so that Hannibal could return home that night. Will was sure the man would have it cleaned again, if not the entire floor replaced, but it would do enough that he could go back to his living space. Will asked if he wanted to go for lunch, or something, though he wasn’t sure if that was something Hannibal even _did_ considering he cooked everything himself, but he had patients early that afternoon, and Will could tell he needed some time to prepare for that.

He drove him to his office- conscious of the ache in his leg from the use- where Hannibal’s car still sat, and killed the engine. They sat there for a moment, Will’s hands flexing on the wheel, before he turned and caught Hannibal looking at him. The man leaned over, stroking his fingers into Will’s hair, resting their foreheads together.

“I will call you soon,” he promised, and Will realized Hannibal might have thought he wasn’t taking this as exactly what it was- not Hannibal pulling away, just needing that time, that space, to put himself back together. Will nodded slightly, angling his face so he could peck Hannibal’s lips. He thought he should say something, but he wasn’t sure what, and instead let the man go in silence, watching, wondering what was going on in that brilliant mind.

*

Hannibal sank down into the chair behind his desk, the sounds of sweet music filling his office. He felt bone dry, as if there was nothing inside him, listless almost. Exhausted.

He should have seen the signs in Richard sooner. He would have until only recently, until he’d been _distracted_. This was not going as he had planned, Will was not cultivating that dark seed Hannibal knew was somewhere inside him- instead, he was softening the psychiatrist to the point of this lazy mistake. Hannibal rubbed his temples, needing to feel something that told him he was _still alive_ , that he hadn’t slipped completely away from reality.

Will had done just that, last night. Hannibal knew, there was no way to deny it. He had felt more alive inside Will, pressing him down into that mattress, then he had in his arts in quite some time. Will’s presence entirely had that effect, that feeling that there was more, that it was within his grasp, that he was alive and able to reach and take it.

Hannibal’s fingers twitched, and he thought to his Rolodex, sitting at home. He felt a chilled sort of panic in his body, one that he swallowed down. He knew what he would be doing tonight.

*

Will opted not to stay in Baltimore, and drove back home, more than happy to enjoy the solitude. Maybe he needed the time just as much as Hannibal, to adjust, accept. He sat on the steps to his porch and watched his dogs romp around outside, when a car pulled up, one he recognized.

He didn’t move as Alana got out, looking around for just a moment, smiling at the dogs. They barked a greeting, and she turned to see Will, her smile faltering. Will let her approach him, didn’t get up, ad she didn’t ask him to.

“How’s your leg?” she asked, and Will didn’t ask how she heard about the attack. He was sure it was news now, and that even before that someone from the FBI had told her.

“Hurts,” Will admitted with a pained smile, “But I’ll take it over another alternative.” She nodded, arms loosely folded, just standing. He wanted to ask what was on her mind, surely she hadn’t driven out here just to _ask_ how his leg felt.

“Why were you there?” Will realized his eyes had drifted back down to the ground, and he looked up. “That night. Why were you at Hannibal’s.”

It almost wasn’t a question. There was something in her voice that wanted to just state that it was _odd_. Will forced himself up, rotating his jaw at the pain in his thigh, trying to think of an answer that _wasn’t a lie_ but wasn’t the whole truth.

“We’d gone to see Jack,” Will said, the truth, “Hannibal...he’d recognized the profile we put together of the killer, as one of his patients. We had to inform Jack.” He looked past Alana for a moment, eyes counting the dogs as they romped around, making sure each was accounted for. “Jack didn’t want me going home, wanted me around for when they went to get the guy. Said it might take until morning to get the warrant though. Hannibal...offered to let me stay.” Still truth, though Will knew it was a little false. Hannibal hadn’t really asked, only asked if he even _should_ , as Will had silently pleaded that he would. “I was going back out to my car to get something when Richard was there, got in...and well, this.” He gestured to his leg, left out the wine, Hannibal’s kisses, the fact that he’d been too _giddy_ to be around the man to even think to bring his files in with him.

“Why were you at Hannibal’s office in the first place?” It occurred to Will that Alana might know his schedule for his informal session with Hannibal, and realized she was prying. She knew something wasn’t right, and his brain was scrambling for a believable way to soothe her.

“I wanted his help,” Will said, “We talk about the cases. He seems to just _know_ what direction to push me.” Not a lie, but Will hadn’t admitted that part of him had just wanted to see the man as well. Alana was quiet for a minute, before she unfolded her arms with a sigh.

“What’s going on between you and Hannibal, Will?” Will tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but couldn’t. He didn’t have an answer for her- because sometimes he wasn’t entirely sure himself, it was so new still, and how could he relate the way Hannibal had clawed his way under his skin, nestled into his veins? How could he give her any subdued answer and not reek of the lie.

He missed her moving. He missed her reaching out to clutch at the sides of his shirt, missed everything until she was close and he could smell the sweet flowers of her perfume and feel her lips brushing his. He froze, god _she was kissing him_ and he didn’t know what to do, how to pull her closer or push her away. Part of him inside was screaming, dying, wanting and needing because Alana had been a dream at one point, had been something so close and tangible, but he was _unstable_ -

He reached up, gently gripped her arms, realized his mouth was starting to respond, and pulled back before he could fall in deeper. She looked at him, and he shook his head, trying to clear his mind, trying to convey that he _couldn’t_.

“I thought I was too...unstable.” The word had venom, a bite, more so than he had meant, and Alana looked wounded.

“Maybe I shouldn’t care so much,” she said, but he saw she till did. She was torn herself, between wanting him and knowing it wasn’t healthy- for either of them. Will looked away, felt his chest aching.

“Alana,” he said, looking back. “You don’t want this.” She stared at him, pulled her arms free, looked for a moment like she might storm away, before she threw her arms around his neck, kissed him again, this time with all force and passion and something hypnotic. Will had an arm around her waist, and for a moment, a _second_ , it was alright- but then she didn’t feel right, didn’t move right, was too lean in his arms, not possessive enough-

_She wasn’t Hannibal_. And any doubts Will had were gone. Hannibal felt right, and no one else would, could.

He pulled away, untangling himself, careful to not trip on the stairs behind him. “Alana, stop,” he said, softly, not unkindly, and her arms dropped to her sides. She took a step back.

“You really...” Her voice choked, and Will wasn’t sure he’d seen Alana like this. She took another step back, nodded, to herself more so than Will, and gave him a sad smile. “Good for you, Will.”

“Alana.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’m...sorry.” Because he was. Part of him hated himself for turning her away, because he never, _never_ wanted to see her hurt. But that did not override the loyalty he felt in his gut to Hannibal.

She nodded, gave him a look that told him she was not done with their original conversation, simply that it need be put on hold. “Call me,” she said, “If you...need anything.”

Will watched her leave, unsure what he was actually feeling.

*

The sound of flesh being sawed open, parting perfectly, was like a serenade, a song of wisps and fairies and beings too light for air. He reached inside with skilled hands, cutting precisely, removing the desired portions. Outside the world turned around him, but in here everything was still, everything was _exactly as he wanted it_. Reality, then, was as it should and always be.

*

The call woke Will up in the middle of the night. He rolled over, reaching blindly for his phone, fumbling to get it to his ear without looking to see who it was.

“Hello?” he rasped, letting his head flop against the pillow.

“Get dressed,” Jack barked, “There’s another body.”

Will’s eyes opened, and he rolled the single word over in his mind, _another_. Jack was talking, telling him to get to Baltimore, and Will was up, ignoring the pain in his leg and fumbling for his clothes, agreeing, yes, _yes_ he’d be there. He threw the phone on his bed as he hopped around, pulling on his kahkis and a blue flannel shirt. He grabbed his grey sweater, bundling up, realizing it was _four in the bloody morning_ and it would be cold.

*

The house had been left untouched, Will knew as he walked past an officer at the door and looked around. Jack was waiting by a doorway through the living room, and Will walked over, saw Zeller, camera in hand, but not the rest of the team. Perhaps they weren’t out of bed yet. Jack motioned and Brian followed him out of the room, giving Will a nod in greeting, and then he was alone with the body.

Will saw her, sitting at the table in her little black dress, flipping through a magazine, looking bored. Waiting to go out, perhaps. She pushed out of her chair when she saw him, shocked, and he grabbed her before she could scream. “No noise,” he whispered, “I plan it this way. No one will know anything is amiss and until I am done with my art.” He closes his hands over her throat, and she trashes, beats at his arm but does not claw, until she is limp, and then beyond limp.

He lifts her and places her on the table, ready for the work to begin. He slices into her with a steady hand, slips into her body and cut at the pieces he wants with such care that it is surgical. The organs are heavy, slick in his hands, warm from her life and perfectly. The blood makes the air heady, a tangy, metallic scent that settles on his tongue in a faint, glorious taste.

When he as retrieved what he desires, he sits her in the chair at the head of the table, settles her hands so they are folded in her lap. In the now less crowded cavity of her belly, he places an apple, a smirk right in the face of the FBI, because they have caught everyone else, but they have not caught him. “They will not catch me,” Will whispers, staring down at the dead woman, “because this is my design.”

He walked to the doorway to the room, nodded to Jack, who returned, followed by Beverly, fresh on the scene and looking quite alive despite the fact that it was after five.

“He’s taunting us,” Will said, “Whoever he is. This isn’t paying homage to Richard, or trying to ride his coat tails. This is a fuck you right to the FBI.” He frowned. “And a grasp at reality.”

“What makes you say that?” Beverly was looking around Will at the body as she spoke.

“Be did enough different that we’d know, but wasn’t sloppy. You won’t find a trace of him- I can guarantee it.” Will sighed, raked a hand through his hair. “As for the rest, it’s just a gut feeling.” Beverly nodded, and Jack was poised to speak, but Will already knew what was on his tongue, the missing organs for enough. “Don’t say it, Jack. I’m not ready to jump to the Chesapeake Ripper. But I do think,” he paused, tried to find a calm way to say it, “that this copycat murder is connected to all the rest.”

“Why on Earth would you think that?” Jack asked, and Will knew he had failed, had made it sound like some conspiracy theory.

“They’re all different enough from the original killings, but similar enough, to the same degree. At first glance, an untrained eye would say they all belong to the original killers- someone who didn’t know Richard was dead would say this was him, he was just changing up his presentation. Would have said that Hobbs killed Cassie Boyle.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “But the differences, if you look, they are someone completely different. He’s counting on us seeing that, dragging us along, seeing how far he can take us before we get too close, if we ever do. He’s toying with us. He’s having _fun_.”

“That’s a sick definition of fun,” Beverly said, but Jack was frowning. Will knew he wasn’t convinced about his idea, but Will _was_.

*

“What are the odds you want to get breakfast?” Beverly asked, standing outside as the sun rose and the city came to life. It was after six AM, and despite the partially gutted body, Will shrugged a shoulder. He could eat. This was business, and since his Encephalitis had cleared, it was easier to look at it that way, to keep a distance.

Beverly drove them to a little diner, where they nursed scalding coffee and plates of scrambled eggs in a comforting silence for the first few minutes. Will found it peaceful, and couldn’t remember when it had gotten so easy to be around the woman. He owed her, though, for coming out that night and helping him realize he wasn’t crazy- he was real, Georgia Madchen had been real.

“Your leg bothering you?” she asked and Will shrugged a shoulder.

“Not so much. Pain killers make it easy to deal with.” He sipped at his coffee and she nodded, twirling her fork around on her plate. He knew she was poised to say something, ask something- but what came out of her mouth, he hadn’t been ready for. “Are you and Hannibal dating?”

Will dropped his fork, nearly choking as he swallowed the food in his mouth. “What?” he asked, reaching for his coffee, not having to feign shock.

“Dating or...I don’t know. Something.” He just stared at her, and she sighed. “I get he’s smart, and I’m sure he’s helped you talk through your shit, Will. But you...you spend a lot of time with him.”

“He’s a friend,” Will said, staring down into his mug of coffee. “I don’t have a lot of those.”

“You’ve got me,” Beverly said, “You’ve got Alana.” She sighed. “The night you got attacked, I saw him holding your hand.” Will remembered the clench of Hannibal’s hand around his, hadn’t thought to pull away, that someone might see- he’d only squeezed back because _he could have lost him_. “And honestly, I could have believed nothing was up, if it was just that. But you’ve been...different. Not counting that insane hickey you were sporting before, you just seem...happy. Excited, comfortable. Rather un-Will-like.”

Will opened his mouth for a retort, but she held her hand up. “And beyond all that, that night... I don’t know, it was like there was some sort of energy crackling between you two. Like you were on some plane of understanding the rest of us just _aren’t_. I caught him looking at you, and maybe, _maybe_ I could have believe it was one sided, but when you looked back it was just...your eyes were raw.” She shrugged a shoulder. “So don’t try to deny it, Will. No bullshit. Spill.”

She sipped at her coffee, and Will frowned, pushing his plate away. “Keep it to yourself,” he mumbled, and he saw her eyes light up. “I don’t know if...if Hannibal really wants anyone to know that _something_ is going on.”

“Oh my god,” she marveled, “You guys are _so_ together.” Will nodded, and she leaned across the table, punching him in the arm. “This is fucking insane. Who’d have though Hannibal would go for someone as classless as _you_.”

“The thanks,” he sneered, rolling his eyes, and she beamed at him.

“So what’s it like? Dating Hannibal? He seems too...I don’t know, refined for dating.”

“I don’t know if we can call it that,” Will said, agreeing. “It’s just...I don’t know. It’s not much different from what we had before. We talk, about cases a lot, he makes dinner.” Will shrugged, his mind filling the blanks with Hannibal’s lips, his hands, the way he smiled at Will and actually _laughed_ -

The way he had fit so perfectly inside Will, made him feel like there was nothing missing in the world.

Will swallowed, pushing the images away, but Beverly was regarding him curiously. “So, have you gotten down at dirty with him yet?” She raised her eyebrows and Will scrambled for his coffee, unwilling to answer. “’Cause I mean, if you haven’t, that bruise on your neck was a pretty sure sign that you _should_. Had to be pretty pent up to leave that.” Will said nothing, and Beverly just laughed, not needing an answer from him.

She continued to poke at him for the rest of their meal, but it turned lighter, joking, until Will was even laughing as they walked out to her car. “Give me something,” she said, wanting just some _little_ detail about their relationship, something she couldn’t quite glean from Will’s reactions.

“Fine,” Will remarked, pulling the door shut as she started the car, and thinking of the _little_ things, none of which seemed little. “Everything’s teeth with him. Kissing, biting, there’s always teeth.” He flushed a little, adding, “Not that I’m complaining. The opposite, honestly.”

Beverly laughed as they drove into traffic. “So he _did_ leave that monstrosity on your neck.” Will just nodded, and she kept laughing. “Well, like I said, if you haven’t gotten nasty yet, get to it Will. He obviously wants you to.”

Will bit his lip, unwilling to divulge that they had- just once- but he could barely think of it as sex. It hadn’t been, exactly. Hadn’t been completely about just feeling good- not that Will would claim it didn’t, he was more than pleasantly surprised at how _good_ it had been- it had been about Will knowing Hannibal was alive and there, that he could crawl inside him and live in Will’s bones forever.

It had been more like making love, if he wanted to put a label to it.

He was glad Beverly wasn’t watching him, as his breath hitched and he realized he _liked_ that idea. And how drastically different it had been to Hannibal touching him in his office- though he wouldn’t dare dream of denying how amazing that had felt.

He hoped she never asked something along the lines of _where_ they decided to get intimate.

His phone began to buzz in his pocket, and he pulled it without looking. “Hello?”

“Good morning Will. I hope I am not waking you.”

“Hannibal, hi.” He looked at Beverly, and she shot him a glance, grinning. “No I’m actually in Baltimore. Jack called me at four this morning about a case. Beverly and I just had breakfast.”

“Well, I guess you would have no reason to join me for breakfast and coffee, then.” Will smiled.

“I’d love some coffee, Hannibal.” Beverly looked at him again, and saw the ridiculous smile on his face.

*

He hadn’t heard from Hannibal in a few days, and he had left it to the man to contact him when he was ready. He assumed Hannibal had been busy, had needed the time alone, and when he walked into Hannibal’s home and looked at the hallway, he realized Hannibal had either had immaculate cleaners in, or the floor replaced. Which, he wasn’t sure.

He wasn’t hungry, but he accepted the coffee with a smile, kissing Hannibal’s cheek as he handed it to him. The man turned and captured his lips for a brief moment, before Will sat down at the table with him.

“So, a case this early?” Hannibal asked, and Will nodded.

“Yeah, someone copied Richard’s style...somewhat.” He sipped at the coffee. “Jack thinks I’m crazy, but I think all these copycats are the same person. It’s like the guy is mocking us, following us. He’s got some sort of obsession with us, maybe.”

Hannibal said nothing, sat there in his casually detached way that Will was used to. It helped, honestly. It made him honest, which made Will’s brain work at angles he normally didn’t see.

“So are you okay?” Will asked, deciding to drop the subject for now. “I mean, the attack and all-“

“I am quite fine, Will,” Hannibal said. “How are you? Is your leg giving you trouble?”

“Less each day,” he said, flicking his glance from Hannibal’s eyes to his chin, his neck. It still was hard to look him in the eyes for long. He seemed different though- more in control then he had been recently. Will wasn’t sure if he liked it. He took another sip of his coffee, looked at his watch, knowing he had a class to teach. Then, making up his mind, he stood up, slipping around the corner of the table, and leaning over Hannibal, pulling him in for a rough kiss. Will felt his hands on his waist, pulling him closer, between his legs, his teeth brushing his lower lip. Will had to stifle a laugh, thinking back to Beverly.

He broke the kiss long enough to drop down to his knees, fingers working open Hannibal’s robe. The man quirked an eyebrow, and questioned very smoothly, “Will?” Will didn’t look up at first, felt his pulse hammering in his temples, and told himself to _breath_ , it would be okay, it couldn’t be that hard. He looked up when Hannibal said his name a second time, and the man reached down, stroked along his stubble, smiling. “Come back up here, Will,” he said, “You don’t need to-“

“I want to,” Will blurted out, realized his hands were shaking. Really, what he wanted was to see behind the film in Hannibal’s eyes, which seemed to be easiest when they were intimate. That and he wanted to make _him_ feel good-

And a sliver of him was curious. A little echo inside him delighted at the idea of Hannibal pushing into his mouth, what his skin would taste like, told him that the aches he was beginning to feel in his gut was _anticipation_.

For the first time through out all of this, Will seriously questioned his sexuality.

Hannibal didn’t fight him after that, just watched as Will ran his hand along his crotch, obviously not entirely sure what he should be doing. He pulled on Hannibal’s pajama pants, and the man lifted his hips enough that Will could pull them down slightly, reach his hand inside. He realized he’d never touched Hannibal, and thought back to him stroking himself before pushing his way into Will’s body.

He realized he might be more excited than Hannibal, and mentally scolded himself. He pulled Hannibal free, stroking him gently, felt those eyes burning into the top of his head. Hannibal reached down, wrapped his hand around Will’s so his grip was tighter, guided him through a stroke, two, and then Will took over, looking up at him-

He had the twitch of a smile on his lips, something predatory in his eyes- something that _should_ have been tucked away.

He felt Hannibal hardening in his hand- and it sent a thrill down his spine. He leaned closer, dragged his tongue along the underside of his cock, let it flick against the glands, and heard Hannibal’s breath catch. His other hand reached for Hannibal’s thigh, ran along it as he sucked the head into his mouth, feeling smooth, soft skin under his tongue, contrasted to the hardness his hand moved over. He took him in a little deeper, sucked gently, telling himself he was doing _okay_ after Hannibal’s small guidance- he could do this.

He took a breath and took him deeper, as far back into his throat as he could. Hannibal groaned- he heard it through his teeth, and Will bobbed his head carefully, wanting to hear it again. Hannibal’s skin had a spice to it that was driving him wild, the salt of his skin making him not thirsty but _hungry_. He felt Hannibal’s fingers playing in his hair, his hips slowly rising to meet him, and gripped onto his thigh, pushing deeper until he was hitting the back of his throat and holding his breath to keep form gagging.

He heard it again, this time Hannibal didn’t hold it back, and Will shivered, sucking him in as deep as he could with each movement. Hannibal’s hand fisted in his hair, tugging, bringing his scalp to life, and Will moaned around him.

The man gasped something- Will wasn’t sure what, it sounded like it could have been a curse, but he was very sure it hadn’t been in English- before Will’s name tumbled from his lips. He tugged on his hair, as if to try to get him to move, and Will ignored him, holding onto his thighs with both hands now as he swallowed him down, groaning because he ached so badly himself he thought he might explode.

That groan did it, and Hannibal gave a sharp moan, his hips lifting slightly, and Will felt warmth flooding his mouth. He swallowed, the movement making Hannibal distinctly gasp, before Will pulled back, Hannibal’s cock leaving his mouth with a satisfying _pop_. He swallowed again, let the oddly pleasant taste in his mouth take over. He’d expected to be gagging at this point, but all he wanted was _more_ , and when he looked up at Hannibal, it must have shown. The man grabbed him and pulled him up, licking at his lips and, Will realized, tasting himself. He groaned and wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s neck, clinging to him tightly as his lip was assaulted with tongue and teeth, until he fought back with his own and made Hannibal chuckle into his mouth.

Hannibal grasped him and stood up, shoving him onto the table, With one hand he edged his own pants back up, the other worked Will’s khakis open, reaching in and grasping him. “Will,” he breathed, “Perhaps you enjoyed that even more than I did.”

Will blushed, but forgot his embarrassment as Hannibal stroked him tightly, quickly, as he bit at his neck and pressed so closely. Will was so far gone already that he cried out, whispering a mantra of _Hannibal_ over and over again, his words coming faster the closer he got. When his orgasm finally took hold, he cried out, Hannibal’s name a wail in the otherwise quiet air, his fingers digging into the man’s robe so harshly it was a wonder it didn’t tear.

Will leaned back when his body finally stopped clenching deliciously, braced on his hands and panting. He watched Hannibal lift a sticky hand to his mouth and trace along the side with his tongue, and he groaned, the bit of his belly still hot with want. “You’re going to kill me,” he moaned, and Hannibal laughed, leaning over to kiss him quickly. Will could taste himself on Hannibal’s lips, tongue, in the brief seconds of contact, and all he could think was how well it mixed with the taste of his lover in his mouth.

Hannibal left him to wash his hands, and Will slid off the table onto shaky legs, fixing his pants and looking at his watch. He could spare a few more minutes before he needed to leave to get to his class on time.

“You know,” Hannibal said, returning, “I hadn’t thought of the morning taking this turn when I invited you over.”

“Sorry for the let down,” Will said, smiling despite it, and Hannibal returned that smile.

“On the contrary,” he said, stroking Will’s cheek, “It was a...pleasant surprise.” He let his hand fall down to Will’s waist. “Though I called you over with the intentions of inviting you to a small dinner party I was going to have.”

“Party?” _As in, more than just you and I?_

“Only a few people,” Hannibal said, toying with Will’s sweater. “You, a few colleagues. Perhaps Dr. Bloom.”

Will felt Alana’s mouth on his, saw her sad eyes, and before he could stop himself, he sputtered, “Alana kissed me.” Hannibal didn’t stop caressing the slight curve of his waist, only cocked his head slightly so his bangs could drift along his forehead.

“Did she,” he mused, “And how did you feel, Will?” Will stared at him, trying to gauge the question, before he frowned.

“At first, not so bad. But...she wasn’t you, Hannibal. She felt wrong.” He leaned in, brushed the older man’s bangs from his face. “Somewhere along the line you got under my skin. And I think I like it.” He wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, just pressing to him, playing with the ends of his hair. “She was onto us, too. I could tell. But I think she was put off from me...me telling her no. I feel bad. I hurt her.”

“Alana Bloom is a grown woman,” Hannibal said, “You in no way broke her, Will. I hope you would not object to me still inviting her. Alana has been a colleague for quite some time.”

“No, no, I don’t mind. I just. I wanted to you know. That’s what people do...in relationships. They tell each other things, right?”

Hannibal said nothing, just kissed his forehead, and Will wondered if Hannibal was unsure about the answer as well.


	10. Chapter 10

Will tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He growled, tugging his pillow over his head, but it was no use. With a sigh he rolled over, looked at the clock- nearly two AM- and then got out of bed, walking downstairs in his standard t-shirt and underwear. He walked into the kitchen, looked at the files on his table, and sat down, opening them and laying out pictures in front of him. A body impales on antlers, a man with his head nearly half sawed off-

A woman with an apple in her belly. Will tapped his fingers, closing his eyes, wondering what hands did this. Steady hands, knowing hands, hands that were sure beyond a doubt of their capability.

He was back in the woman’s small dinning room, she laid out on her table, his hands delving deep inside her. He lifted her liver free, set it aside, continued working, his powerful, tanned forearms working deeper into her body. His hands felt familiar, the skin around his bones like one he knew, and he sucked his lower lip into his mouth, tasted flesh and felt it’s shape with his tongue.

Will’s eyes snapped open and her jerked back from the table, eyes darting around the dark kitchen. It was nearly two, but it had felt like only a few minutes. He raked his hands over his face, knowing the body he had become in his dream, the man he had slipped into.

Hannibal. He had been Hannibal. And he had gutted the woman.

“No,” he mumbled, “You’re crazy Graham.” _And talking to myself now_. He sighed, shoved the woman’s picture away, looked at Dr. Sutcliffe’s destroyed head, traced it with his finger. Hannibal has _known_ this man, had-

“Stop it,” he said, louder this time. _You’re crazy. You’re thinking like a madman_. He sighed and slumped his head down into his arms, thought of Hannibal in better ways, the way he kissed him and _touched_ him-

And whatever was behind those eyes that he couldn’t crack.

“Goddammit!” Will stood up, frustrated. He had no reason to think his boyfriend-lover-whatever-Hannibal-truly-was was anything more than a very cultured, intelligent psychiatrist. There was no reason to think he had some reason to-to-

_To mutilated these people? Maybe he’s even more. Maybe Jack isn’t crazy, maybe the Ripper is tied in. Maybe it’s all him_. Maybe Will needed to lie back down.

Will went back up to bed, angry with himself over such crazy thoughts.

*

“So how’s loverboy?” Will looked up from the paper he had been grading, saw Beverly walking into his lecture hall. He set it down, leaned back in his chair, and smiled at her, because her smile so was _infectious_. It took him a moment to realize she meant Hannibal.

“Fine,” he said, “Busy. He’s having a dinner...thing.”

“A dinner thing?” She sat on the corner of his desk, and Will just nodded.

“Yeah. A party.”

“So you’re going to have to be social?” Will nodded, and Beverly laughed. “Don’t embarrass him in front of his friends, Will!” Will groaned, slumping in his chair, and Beverly realized he was honestly _nervous_. “Hey, I’m just playing Will. Relax. All you have to do is sit there and eat, talk to someone if they talk to you. I’m sure he doesn’t expect you to be the life of the party, just to be _there_.”

Will nodded, sighing. “So, you gettin’ freaky with the good doctor yet?”

“What is with your obsession and my- my sex life!” Will exclaimed, but he laughed, and Beverly just punched him in the shoulder. “Please don’t tell me you came all the way here to play 20 questions.”

“No. I came here to drag you out for a beer and play 20 questions. Let’s get going, it’s been a long day.” Will smiled, and for once, he didn’t think about saying no.

*

He slipped a gloved hand inside the man’s ribs, his other hand following, scalpel in hand. He cut with a strong hand, pulling the heavy organ free, feeling the still heart in his hand and smiling. The scent of blood settled on his tongue, reminded him of the man’s kisses when he’d worried his lip too much, reminded him what it was like to bruise his neck and _claim_ him as his own.

He set the heart aside and delved back in after the man’s lungs. He wanted to see him sink his teeth into the organ, see his stormy eyes light up with _understanding_.

He wanted Will to _see_.

*

“Okay okay okay,” Beverly said as she lifted her countless beer of the night. “I bought that beer you’re drinking. Pay me back in details.”

“It’s scary how interested you are,” Will said, taking a sip, and she grinned.

“What can I say? You two are a pretty curious thing. Besides, it’s kinda hot trying to picture the two of you doin’ the horizontal shuffle.” She snorted at Will’s horrified expression. “And seriously Will, there is no way Hannibal hasn’t _tried_ something with you. The way he looks at you-“

“His office,” Will finally said, feeling a pleasant buzz roaming his head and limbs. “He...well. He might have,” he trailed off, muttering “jerked me off” under his breath, and Beverly nearly spilled her beer trying to get it back on the table, her eyes wide before she burst out laughing at Will’s bright cheeks. She kept laughing, unable to contain herself, even as her phone started ringing. She ignored it, pushing her chair back so she could lean over to catch her breath.

“Your embarrassment is priceless,” she said, “We’re not leaving until you’re so plastered that you tell me every detail.”

“We’d die of alcohol poisoning,” Will said, taking a drink and, despite the embarrassment, feeling good. When his phone started ringing, he pulled it out, the fun instantly dying when he saw Jack’s number. “Hello?”

“Will.” He sounded tired, and Will didn’t need an explanation.

*

Will was sure they had no business on a crime scene, smelling of beer and still tipsy, but Jack had insisted. They had to take a cab, both sitting in a forced silence trying to sober up. When they reached the crime scene though, what was otherwise the tranquil Gwynn Oak Park, and saw behind the tape what was waiting for them, they sobered up. Quickly.

Jack was glaring at them, as if he could fault them for drinking in their off time. Beverly didn’t seem phased, but Will didn’t like the way the man’s eyes bore into him. Waiting for him, hanging by thin line from a tree, was the body-

In countless pieces.

He grimaced, his stomach rolling, and he had to take a deep breath to keep from vomiting. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do this, not right now. He looked back at Jack, who motioned everyone back and gave him a look that simply said on word. _Now_. Will swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to picture it, to piece the body back together. The pieces spun, and instead of a lifeless body he saw a warm, living one, hanging them up with such care that each piece fall as planned. It was art, it was decoration, it was breathing life into this dead space.

“It’s beauty.”

The voice whispered in his ear, accented and familiar and made his stomach tighten _pleasantly_. There was no one hanging the pieces now, but there was a hand on the small of his back, someone nuzzling his hair. “Look at it, Will, and _see_.”

Will stared, He drank down Hannibal’s cologne and could hear music playing in the wind- Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1, and Will remembered the warmth of Hannibal’s home and the taste of his mouth, heavy with wine, the way his hands moved-

He jerked away from everything, taking a few steps away from the scene and collapsing to his hands and knees, vomiting into the grass, coughing as he choked on a mix of fear and a sense of comfort, a sense of _home_.

*

Hannibal stepped from his car, looking at the mess of people, and walked carefully around the working officers, eyes searching for the reason he had been called out. Sure enough, he saw Will sitting on a bench, head in his hands, Beverly sitting next to him, rubbing his back rather affectionately. He was reminded for a moment of her incurable curiosity- and a part of him twitched with jealousy because Will was _his_ to touch, to soothe and destroy. Will was his to pull apart, piece by beautiful, agonizing piece.

He tucked that part away and walked over. Beverly saw him and just gave him a nod. “Sorry,” she said, “This is sorta my fault. I had him out drinking. I guess with his imagination, beer and crime scenes really don’t mix.” She turned back to Will, who looked up and stared at Hannibal with wide eyes, pupils blown, like he was staring into him, through him, to the other side.

Hannibal was curious as to what he saw.

“I will make sure he’s taken care of,” he said, reaching a hand out to Will. For a moment the man didn’t move, as if he was weighing his options, but then he took Hannibal’s and a stood up. Without much thought he curled close to him, and Hannibal kept an arm around him, guiding him as they walked to his car. He settled Will in the seat, his hands tender in their movements around him. “Will you be okay for the short ride?”

“Yeah,” Will said, not looking at him, and Hannibal closed the door. He looked out before he got in, saw Beverly watching, a curious, somewhat worried look on her face.

*

Will wasn’t sure if he wanted to curl into the man or pull away. He wasn’t sure if he needed Hannibal or if he needed his absence. In the end, once Hannibal had him inside, guiding him upstairs to lie down, Will chose Hannibal, and clung to him. He half expected Hannibal to set him up in a guestroom, so when he was taken into his master bedroom, he wasn’t exactly sure what to think.

“Lie down,” he said, and Will obeyed, climbing into the bed and curling up under the blanket. “Do you feel ill?”

“I won’t vomit on your sheets,” Will said, laughing, as Hannibal turned, disappeared for a minute. Will heard the flick of light switches, and closed his eyes, not opening them as he heard Hannibal moving around the dark room, not even when the mattress dipped and an arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him back against him. Will simply kept his eyes closed and felt his warmth, smelled his cologne, and wasn’t sure if he was choking in his mind, or in reality.

*

Hannibal woke before Will, and propped himself up on one arm, watching the man sleep. He looked completely serene, something he had never seen on Will’s face, and he couldn’t help but reach out, trace his fingers along his arm. Will stirred, and Hannibal leaned in, draping an arm around him and nuzzling his hair.

Snuggling, to most. Reminding Will who he belonged to, for him.

“Is it morning?” Will asked. He had a horrible taste in his mouth, and huffed a breath when Hannibal nibbled on his earlobe. “God, I feel like shit.”

“Do you remember any of last night, Will?” Will licked his lips, saying nothing, but Hannibal could read his body language. He dipped down, nibbled at his neck, realized he was hoping Will would feel good enough to take the hints and start the day out _proper_.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, “That you had to...come get me like that.” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have gone to that scene. Shouldn’t have listened to Jack.”

“It’s alright,” Hannibal soothed, his hand running along Will’s abdomen, fingers teasing the dark hair that trailed down to his groin. “Beverly admitted it was her fault. She called me from your phone.” Will barely remembered that. “I cannot fault you for anything, Will.”

“She knows,” he blurted, reaching up to dig the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I fucking told her. Fuck.” Hannibal’s hand stilled, contemplating this, then his fingers flexed and continued teasing Will’s skin.

“Do you wish this to be a secret, Will?” Will opened his mouth, ready to tell Hannibal he was keeping it a secret for _him_ , but stopped. Truthfully, he wasn’t entirely sure.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It felt good to tell Beverly but...I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck we are, Hannibal.” He rolled over, looking at the man.

“We are what you want us to be,” he said, leaning his forehead to Will’s, and he closed his eyes.

“I don’t even know what I want.” He sighed. “Except you.” Behind his lids he could see hunks of flesh and muscle, and he fought down the wave of neasua that hit him. “And to brush my teeth. Maybe a shower.”

Hannibal laughed, kissed the corner of his mouth, and Will felt at ease for a moment.

*

He should have gone to the lab that day after his class, but he didn’t. He went home, watched the dogs run around, left his phone off, and pretended the world didn’t exist. Rinse, repeat the next day, the only difference a quick call to Hannibal after class to hear his voice.

On day three, Jack came to the lecture hall for him.

“Class is over,” he announced, cutting Will off mid sentence. He stared at him, hard, while the students shuffled out. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Here,” Will said, “Home.” It wasn’t a lie.

“We need you with the case.”

“I don’t want to be on the case.” He pulled his glasses off, Jack staring at him. “Not this one. Get someone else.”

“Will.” His voice was gruff, angry. “You’re the best. You’re the only one that does what you can do. You might be the only one that can find this guy.”

Will pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning. “Fine,” he said, rotating his jaw, “But. Just. Today.” He put his glasses back on, gathering up his papers quickly. He had Hannibal’s dinner party the following night, and he wouldn’t spend precious hours before it staring at a destroyed body. He’d spend it worrying how he was going to survive the night.

*

The body parts were assembled into a body. His head had been found, hidden, not worthy to adorn the scene. They left Will alone with him, and Will’s eyes seemed to fall into each crevice between pieces, knowing because Jack had told him that the man’s heart and lungs were mixing. He closed his eyes, but he couldn’t see him alive, only dead. Dead and being carved up on a table, possibly in his home- Will had not asked Jack for any information on the man’s identity- his heart being pulled free with a wet _sucking_ sound, his lungs following. The man wielding the knife was careful, precise, because that was his nature. This was his art. One of his many arts.

He smelled Hannibal’s cologne and snapped his eyes open, running over to the sink and dry heaving. He coughed, had nothing to give, and instead leaned there with his throat burning.

He wondered if he was sick again.

He straightened up, swallowed, and looked back at the body. It didn’t make any sense, the way his mind was jumping to this sick image. It didn’t make any sense that he would place Hannibal at the other end of a well trained knife, frame him as a monster.

Will’s stomach tightened, but it wasn’t completely unpleasant. He thought about Hannibal with blood on his hands, a rich, deep red against the perfect shade of his skin, those eyes finally unguarded, like he had seen them that one night. Strip the skin away, and a beautiful monster would lie beneath.

Will stormed out of the room and left, damning Jack and not giving a shit if he was unhappy about it.


	11. Chapter 11

Will had spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to dress the next evening. He knew he should probably wear black, and did, but for some reason every shirt he put on under his jacket seemed _wrong_. He wondered if Hannibal would excuse him if he wore flannel. Probably not.

He finally settled on a red button down he was pretty sure he’d never worn- didn’t even remember buying, honestly- and went sans tie. He could only force so much.

He was the first to arrive, but then, he had planned on that. He knew he couldn’t hover in the kitchen while Hannibal finished the last bits of the meal, the help he had hired working as well, but he managed to snag a quick kiss after letting himself in- which had felt odd, but Hannibal had insisted on the phone that day that Will was welcome, pure and simple.

Hannibal still had his apron on, sleeves rolled up, and he let his eyes rake over Will, giving him a little smile that Will couldn’t believe meant _approval_. He kissed him again, longer this time, one of his hands popping open two of the top buttons on the shirt, before he left without a word.

Will left them open.

When Hannibal reappeared to him, dressed in, as Will had guessed, black with a white button down, Will gave him the same look, from head to toe and slowly back up, and Hannibal chuckled, giving him one last kiss before the evening started. Will knew there would be no open affection between them while Hannibal had guests over, and he was rather alright with that.

Will didn’t know most anyone who walked through those doors, but Hannibal was kind enough to introduce them. One gentlemen seemed rather interested in what he did, and actually asked about how he _envisioned_ crimes scenes. Will stammered through a watered down, dull version, not exactly wanting to think about any of the scenes at the moment, especially the latest one. He had just finished when he felt familiar hands on his arms, and Alana was greeting the man he had been talking to, and then excusing them, pulling Will away.

“I owe you for that,” he said, and she smiled.

“Don’t mention it. You looked like he had you nailed into that spot.” She kept a hold of his arm, affectionately. “I wasn’t really sure I’d see you here. It’s not really...”

“My type of place?” Will laughed. “Yeah. I agree. But Hannibal insisted.” He realized, by the look Alana gave him, that may have been the incorrect word choice. “And I do owe him, for all the help he’s been giving me lately.”

“Jack says you haven’t been helping with his current case.” Will frowned. Why did everything seem to lead back to this?

“This one it’s...it’s just not good for me.” He sighed. “He got me at a bad time when it happened. I was having a drink with Beverly, and the scene just...didn’t sit with me well. And now I can’t shake it.”

“They’ve never sat with you well, Will.” His frown deepened.

“Shouldn’t you be happy?” he asked, a little angry. “You were the one who didn’t want me doing this, who was afraid I’d get in too deep. But when I _recognize_ that I can’t not go in too deep, you try to push me.” Alana pulled back.

“I just think you should figure out _why_ this one is different. It might help the case. Or you.” She turned and walked away, and Will felt like an ass the moment she was gone.

He was rather happy he hadn’t been seated next to Alana, although part of him wanted to apologize for snapping at her. He had been seated directly at Hannibal’s right, and he wondered if anyone was looking at him funny for it. He almost didn’t care, relishing in the fact that he could at lest be close to the man.

He sipped at his wine while the food was presented, trying to keep busy to keep conversation to a minimum, waiting for the right time to turn and strike up something small with Hannibal, something that didn’t matter but gave him an excuse to hear the man’s voice, sneak a touch to his hand. He almost wished the room knew. But a moment later he’d be glad they didn’t, then back to wishing. Truthfully, Will had no idea what he wanted anymore.

The woman across from him leaned over to Hannibal and touched his arm, asking what was on her plate in a flirtatious way. Will listened as Hannibal explained it was liver, going off into how it was cooked, but Will stopped at that.

_Liver_. Richard’s copycat had taken a liver-

_Stop it Will. Not here._ Will sighed and took another sip of his wine, heard someone remark that it had been years since anyone had cooked lung, and that it was simply _divine_ , that Hannibal just had no right being so good with the culinary arts.

_Lungs. Art._

Will looked down at his plate, and didn’t need anyone to tell him what it was. _Heart_. He finished his wine, trying to hide that his hand was shaking.

*

He didn’t bolt. He didn’t want to. Will waited, he played his part as a guest as best as _he_ could, and when the hour was late- or early, truly, and everyone was leaving, he waited a moment more.

He watched Hannibal collapse down into a chair in his sitting room, sighing and leaning his head back. He looked exhausted, yet satisfied. Will stood away from him, by the window, the night running through his head, wondering if he was crazy, _if he was mad_ -

“You didn’t eat.” Hannibal raised his head, looked at Will, who looked away, back out the window.

“Nerves,” he said, staring out at nothing, rolling everything over in his head. _He’s taunting us, this killer. He knows we have nothing to use_ -

Will stopped. Not taunting, taunting was the wrong word. He looked at Hannibal again, at his hands resting on the arms of the chairs. _He’s teasing us_.

“It was you.” Hannibal watched him, looking confused- no, _feigning_ confusion. Will remembered the film of detachment over those eyes, how whatever lie beneath was hazy, clouded over. Unavailable.

He’d seen in once.

“It’s been you all along.” He turned fully, and Hannibal sat up now. “Marissa, Cassie Boyle... you’ve been doing this the whole time. And now these new killings- you’re the copy cat killer, Hannibal. It was always you.”

Hannibal didn’t move for a moment, then slowly, carefully, he stood. Will watched him take a step towards him, and he took a step back as best as he could. “I wondered when you would put the pieces together, Will.”

The air stopped moving around Will, and suddenly there was no sound, just a deafening silence and the pounding of the blood in his temples. He’d wanted Hannibal to tell him he was crazy, to tell him he was sick again- _anything but that_. The sound exploded back to him when Hannibal took another step closer to him, regarding him with dark, sharp eyes. All knowing eyes, eyes that saw and took in and cataloged and _memorized_.

Eyes that Will could see again.

“What are we going to do about this, Will?” His voice was still smooth, the accent sending shivers down Will’s spine, but the words were heavy, dark, dripped with potential. Will looked at him and saw blood in those eyes and on that mouth and he _lost it_. He threw himself at Hannibal, tried to hit him, but Hannibal grabbed his arm, forced it down.

“You were fucking _eating_ them,” he screamed, and Hannibal, gods be damned, _smirked_.

“So were you.”

Will struck again, this time hit him in the jaw, jerked him back a little. He tore away, stepping back, shaking and panting and staring at the man he _needed so badly_ and seeing a monster. Hannibal looked at it, carefully wiped the blood off his lip with his thumb, and then sucked it into his mouth, never once letting Will’s gaze tear away.

When he struck, Will didn’t stand a chance.

He grabbed Will and shoved him down, pinning him to the chaise longue on his belly and pressing into him. He fisted his hands in Will’s hair and Will bucked, twisting, trying to escape. “Tell me Will,” Hannibal said, leaning close to his ear, “If you know what I am, why are you still here? Why did you not call Jack?”

Will opened his mouth, ready to retort that he had to be _sure_ , but the words died in his throat. Hannibal pulled his head back painfully, exposing his throat, and reached his other hand around, wrapping it around but not squeezing. “You didn’t call him because you don’t want me to stop.” He nuzzled Will’s curls, breathed in the scent of his fear and confusion. “You like this, Will- you simply don’t want to.”

Will closed his eyes, swallowed, Hannibal memorizing the motion of his throat moving beneath his hand. He remembered his voice in his ear as he stared up at the adorned tree, whispering hypnotically, _It’s beauty_. His stomached clenched and stopped thrashing, going limp. Hannibal waited a moment, before easing off him slowly, pulling his hand away from his throat. No sooner had he done that, Will was twisting so he was on his back, grabbing Hannibal by his tie and jerking him forward, mouth seeking, finding, crashing into his violently.

There was no wait for a reaction. Hannibal pushed him down against the furniture, grabbed at his hair. Will bit his lip, forced the blood into his mouth and drank down the metallic salt. “If you’re a monster,” he gasped, “then _show me_.”

Hannibal growled, and Will tore his shirt open, accepting the hungry, abusive kiss he gave him, attempting to shove everything off his shoulders. Hannibal pulled back long enough to undo his tie, and Will watched those hands, thinking about all the _lives_ they’d taken.

He pushed Hannibal then, so he well back onto the floor, and straddled him, throwing his own jacket off. He stared down and him and rocked his hips, eyes fluttering, aching in the most divine way. Hannibal bared his teeth and sat up, grabbing Will to keep him in place and tore at hiss hirt, buttons flying, until he could get at his throat. He bite and sucked and Will whined, writhing around, feeling Hannibal pushing up against him.

“You are mine,” he said into his skin, and Will hissed “yes” without a thought. Hannibal shoved him off his lap roughly, crawling between his legs and working at his pants, stripping him with such frantic ease that Will barely knew it happened. He just knew he was naked and Hannibal was biting one of his thighs, his hands cupping his ass and Will arched and _welcomed_ all of it. He stared up at the ceiling and let Hannibal do as he pleased, wanted to see the monster in all his glory beneath his skin.

When he pushed a saliva slickened finger into his boy, Will grunted and took it. This wasn’t going to be gentle, tender. This was something new and Will needed to _know_. The first finger had barely been inside him when a second joined, and Hannibal was pushing into him as far as he could, making Will moan and push back. It hurt, how fast he was taking this, and Will welcomed that too.

Hannibal pulled away, and Will scrambled to sit up. He wasn’t nearly ready, but the look in Hannibal’s eyes- predatory, dangerous, _hungry_ made him not care. He fought past Hannibal’s hands and opened his pants, pulling him free and wrapping his mouth around him, swallowing his cock as far as he could as Hannibal dragged his nails along his back, whispering something harsh, in a language Will didn’t speak, but it made him moan and pull back, just to have Hannibal grab his and kiss him, pushing him down again. Will could feel the friction from the carpet leaving parts of his flesh raw as Hannibal flipped him over, forced him onto his belly. He kicked the rest of his clothing away and grasped Will’s hips, driving into him with one powerful thrust that had the man screaming.

Hannibal drank in the sound and leaned over Will as he drove into him, getting a fistful of his hair and keeping him pushed down into the carpet with his ass arched up. Will panted with each thrust, groaning at the pain, eyes fluttering each time that spot inside him was hit- feeling completely _taken_ , completely owned and captured.

“I’m. Yours.” He huffed, pushing back against Hannibal’s body. He tried to lift his head, to see him, but Hannibal’s grip was tight, his hold iron, and Will could only push back against his body. He whimpered, bucked up against the hold again. “Hannibal,” he gasped, “Please.”

Hannibal released his hold, and Will pulled completely away, turning and pushing him down onto his back. He straddled his hips before Hannibal could protest, sinking back down onto his cock and crying out. Hannibal grasped at his hips, staring up, dark eyed and dangerous, and Will held that gaze.

“Murderer,” he said with a roll of his hips, watched as Hannibal tipped his head back and gasped. Will slowed his rhythm, wanting to _torture_ the man beneath him, inside him. Feeling he needed to do something, anything, to make him feel some sort of agony-

But not wanting to.

Hannibal gave him a few moments at his slower pace, before he sat up, wrapping an arm around Will to keep him in place, and pushed up into him. Will gasped, and leaned down, seeking and finding Hannibal’s mouth. He kissed the psychiatrist as he drove up into him, making him gasp against his mouth. Hannibal drink them down and bit Will’s lip until he bled, until their kiss had that familiar tangy metal in it. He reached between them, grabbing Will’s cock, which had gone ignored, and stroked him in time with their partnered rhythm, making Will see stars.

“Han-Hannibal,” he panted, so close, pulling away so the older man could see the way his lips were smeared red. Hannibal drove faster at the sight, found his neck and kissed and bit, breaking skin as his fist tightened and Will heard him whispering a hushed mantra over and over again, into his broken skin.

“You are mine.”

Will came, he cried out Hannibal’s name and clutched at him, needing to hold onto him, needing to know he was still there and the world would stop spinning. Hannibal stroked him through the orgasm, until his muscles still again, and then shove him down onto his back, back inside him before Will knew he had even pulled out- high with orgasmic delirium, Will was barely sure what was real- fucking him with such abandon that Will thought he might split open in tea, be left a glistening, bloody crevice of a man.

He stared up at Hannibal, not touching him, clutching at the carpet, feeling the slickness of sweat and cum along his chest and abdomen. Hannibal was staring at him with unfiltered eyes- and Will saw everything, every bit of passion and desire and intelligent madness, saw the way he was memorizing Will’s every breath.

When he spoke with his bloodied mouth, it was imprinted in Hannibal’s mind forever. Through his labored breaths, Will stared back and said clearly, “I’m yours.”

Hannibal growled, a sound so unlike him, rumbling from his chest, and came inside Will, marking him for a second time as his creature, his territory, his obsession. Will pushed back against him until Hannibal finally stilled, until the room silenced around them.

Will didn’t move- he wasn’t sure he still knew how to- and he waited until Hannibal pulled out, until that disheartening emptiness was where he should have been, and Will finally croaked out, “Why?”

“Because I see something in you, Will,” he replied, looking down at him. Will sat up slowly, “Something beautiful.”

“I’m not like you,” he said, though there was no conviction in his words. “I see through their eyes, but I don’t...I can’t.” He stopped, licked his bloodied lips, and Hannibal watched with a never ending hunger. “I won’t.”

“What made you so sick before, Will?” He leaned it, brushing some of his curls away from his face- a shockingly tender movement, and Will turned to his hand, kissed his palm. “Was it that your mind was piecing everything together, that you abhorred the idea that someone you so cared for, someone you _loved_ , could be capable of such atrocities- Or was it because the idea was _comforting_?”

Will stared at him, tongue heavy and lips numb. He thought back to staring up at that dress, the smell of flesh in the air, swearing he could smell Hannibal's cologne, and the heady mix making him feel as if _he was home_. The memories crashed into him, splintered and lodged in his veins, and it was only after they had passed that he realized Hannibal had said _loved_.

“I felt at home,” he whispered, and Hannibal kissed his mouth sweetly. Will let him, rolled the word _love_ silently over his own tongue, tasting it, testing it’s weight. “How can you know I love you?”

“You’ve loved me well before you knew it, William.” He chuckled- it was a dark sound, but it felt warm to Will. “I’ve always known, it just had to be properly...cultivated.”

_You did this to me_. Will realized it, wondered how long Hannibal had been playing games to trip him into his snare- and then realized he _didn’t care_ , because he was happy to be trapped. “I’m not killing anyone,” Will said, and knew it was a lie. He’d killed in the field, and he probably would again. But Hannibal understood the meaning. He said nothing, stroked his fingers along Will’s arm, and Will thought he saw the word _yet_ in Hannibal’s eyes. “And I don’t want all our sex to leave us bloody on your carpet.”

Hannibal laughed at that, shaking his head, and Will smiled. He leaned his head down and kissed Hannibal’s shoulder. “I mean, I rather liked how _nice_ you were our first time.”

“I can be both,” Hannibal assured him, and Will believed it.

*

Will slipped his jacket off and left it on the table, mulling over the crime scene photos listlessly, rubbing his hands along the arms of his sweater so they had _something to do_. He was looking calmly at the latest scene when he heard heels clicking against the floor, and heard the door open, Alana slipping in and he knowing without looking.

“Hi,” he said, looking over, and she gave him a tentative smile.

“I thought you weren’t working on that case.” Will looked down at it, shrugged.

“I decided to give it another look.” He let his arms relax, stuffed his hands into his pockets. “A smart woman told me I should, after all.” Alana’s next smile was real. “I’m sorry for snapping the other night. I shouldn’t have.”

“I shouldn’t have pried so much,” she admitted, closing the gap and reaching out to touch his arm, rub it an affectionate, but friendly way. “I’m glad you’re on it, though. The one thing Jack is right about is that you’re the best at what you do.” She looked down at the photos, a small look of disgust crossing her face. “We’ll catch this guy if you’re looking for him.”

The door opened again, Will casting his eyes up, and then smiling. Alana followed his gaze, watched as Hannibal closed it and walked towards the two.

“Hello Alana,” he said, smiling at her. She smiled back.

“Hello Hannibal. What brings you down here?” He walked around the table, stopping so close to Will their arms brushed.

“I’m here to collect Will,” he replied, his arm slipping around the man’s waist. Alana noticed it and raised her eyebrows a little, but didn’t comment.

“I feel like I didn’t get to properly thank you for dinner the other night,” she continued, looking away from where Hannibal’s hand was gently clutching Will’s sweater, “It was wonderful.” Hannibal smiled at her.

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it,” he admitted, “Poor Will let his nerves get the better of him and did not join us in actually _eating_ dinner.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Alana admitted, this time looking at Will, “You missed out Will.”

“We will be making up for it,” Hannibal said with a smile, “Won’t we, Will?” He looked at him, and Will nodded, leaning against him slightly. Hannibal turned, nuzzling Will’s curls for just a second, kissing his temple, and Will watched as every question Alana had had on her tongue, all the ones he had answered and she had rejected, died. He mouthed the word _sorry_ to her, sorry for not coming clean sooner, sorry for hurting her, sorry for the many things no one saw. “Are you working on this case now?” He released Will, looked down at the crime scene photos, and Alana spoke up before Will.

“He told me he’s decided to give it another shot.” She caught Hannibal’s eyes, her’s intent, and Hannibal smiled at the silent warning. _Don’t hurt him. Don’t break him_. Hannibal was amused at how fragile she thought Will was. He knew the man didn’t break, he bent and molded and _compromised_ , but he did not break entirely.

“I am sure then that we are all quite safe. Will will no doubt track him down soon.” He reached over, took Will’s hand and squeezed it. “If you’ll excuse us, Alana. As I said, Will’s nerves got the best of him the other night, so we’re going to have a private, proper dinner to make up for it.”

Alana nodded, telling them to enjoy. Will gave her one final look, and she gave him a little smile and a shrug, a silent _it’s alright_ , and he nodded and turned back to walk with Hannibal, lacing their fingers together. Hannibal squeezed and looked at him through the corners of his dark eyes, smiling his hidden smile at the beautiful creature that had so perfectly fallen into his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's that. Thanks so much for reading! When I was writing this, I had originally planned for it to be a stand alone piece, and let you guys interpret the ending however you so chose. However, now that it's done, I almost want to write a sequel. I haven't decided yet.
> 
> As always, you guys can find me on [Tumblr](http://madnizilla.tumblr.com/) for anything you may need! Thanks again! :)


End file.
